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GEORGE  HELM 


THE  WOKKS  OF  DAVID  GRAHAM  PHILLIPS 

George  Helm 

The  Price  She  Paid  The  Conflict 

The  Grain  of  Dust       The  Husband's  Story 

The  Hungry  Heart      White  Magic 

The  Fashionable  Adventures  of  Joshua  Craig 

The  Worth  of  a  Woman 

Old  Wives  for  New 
Light-fingered  Gentry 
The  Second  Generation 
The  Deluge  The  Master  Rogue 

The  Social  Secretary         Golden  Fleece 
The  Plum  Tree  A  Woman  Ventures 

The  Cost  The  Great  God  Success 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK 

161 


David  Graham  Phillips 


GEORGE  HELM 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912,  by  Hearst's  Magazine 


Published  September,  1312 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     BEHIND  THE  BEARD i 

II.     THE  CAT'S-PAW 53 

III.  "THERE  GOES  A  MAN"  ......  98 

IV.  THE  MATCH-MAKER IS9 

V.     SEEING  HER  FATHER 2I° 

VI.     THE  TEST 258 


GEORGE    HELM 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

A  COMET  so  dim  that  it  is  almost 
invisible  will    cause   agitated   in 
terest  in  the  heavens  where  great 
fixed  stars  blaze  nightly  unnoticed.     Har 
rison  was  a  large  Ohio  river  town,  and  in 
its  firmament  blazed  many  and  considerable 
fixed   stars — presenting   pretty    nearly   all 
varieties  of  peculiarity  in  appearance  and 
condition.     But  when  George   Helm  ap 
peared  everybody  concentrated  upon  him, 
"Did  you  see  that  young  fellow  with  the 
red  whiskers  stumping  down  Main  Street 
this  afternoon?" — "Did  you  see  that  jay  in 

i 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  funny  frock  coat  and  the  stove  pipe 
hat?"— "Who's  the  big  hulking  chap  that 
looks  as  if  he'd  just  landed  from  nowhere?" 

— "I  saw  the  queerest  looking  mud-dauber 
of  a  lawyer  or  doctor — or  maybe  preacher 

—sitting  on  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Beaver's 
boarding-house." — "I  saw  him,  too.  He 
had  nice  eyes — gray  and  deep  set — and  they 
twinkled  as  if  he  were  saying,  'Yes,  I  know 
I'm  a  joke  of  a  greenhorn,  but  I'm  human, 
and  I  like  you,  and  I'd  like  you  to  like 


me.'  " 


In  towns,  even  the  busiest  of  them,  there 
is  not  any  too  much  to  talk  about.  Also, 
there  is  always  any  number  of  girls  and 
widows  sharply  on  the  lookout  for  bread 
winners  ;  and  the  women  easily  get  the  men 
into  the  habit  of  noting  and  sizing  up  newly 
arrived  males.  No  such  new  arrival, 
whether  promising  as  a  provider  or  not,  es 
capes  searching  attention.  Certainly  there 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

was  in  young  George  Helm's  appearance  no 
grace  or  beauty  to  detain  the  professional 
glance  of  a  husband-seeker  with  a  fancy  for 
romantic  ornamentation  of  the  business  of 
matrimony.  Certainly  also  there  was  in 
that  appearance  no  suggestion  of  latent 
possibilities  of  luxury-providing.  A  plain, 
serious-looking  young  man  with  darkish 
hair  and  a  red  beard,  with  a  big  loosely 
jointed  body  whose  legs  and  arms  seemed 
unduly  long.  A  strong,  rather  homely  face, 
stern  to  sadness  in  repose,  flashing  unex 
pectedly  into  keen  appreciation  of  wit  and 
fun  when  the  chance  offered.  The  big 
hands  were  rough  from  the  toil  of  the  fields 
—so  rough  that  they  would  remain  the 
hands  of  the  manual  laborer  to  the  end. 
The  cheap,  smooth  frock  suit  and  the  not 
too  fresh  top  hat  had  the  air  of  being  their 
wearer's  only  costume,  of  having  long 
served  in  that  capacity,  of  getting  the  most 

3 


GEORGE    HELM 

prudent  care  because  they  could  not  soon  be 
relieved  of  duty. 

"He  lives  in  the  room  my  boy  Tom  made 
out  of  the  attic  last  summer,"  said  Mrs. 
Beaver,  who  supported  her  husband  and 
children  by  taking  in  boarders.     "And  all 
he  brung  with  him  was  in  a  paper  shirt 
box.    He  wears  a  celluloid  collar  and  cuffs, 
and  he  sponges  off  his  coat  and  vest  and 
pants  every  morning  before  he  puts  'em  on. 
So  Tom  says.    He  lies  awake  half  the  night 
reading  or  writing  in  bed — sometimes  when 
he  reads  he  laughs  out  loud,  so  you'd  think 
he  had  company.    And  he  sings  hymns  and 
recites  poetry.    And,  my!  how  he  does  eat! 
Them  long  legs  of  his'n  is  hollow  clear 
down." 

There  is  no  doubt  about  the  red  beard. 
Since  George  Helm  has  become  famous,  the 
legend  is  that  he  always  had  a  smooth  face. 
But  like  most  of  the  legends  about  him — > 

4 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

like  that  about  his  astonishing  success  and 
astounding  marriage — this  legend  of  the 
smooth  face  is  as  falsely  inaccurate  as  most 
of  the  stuff  that  passes  for  truth  about  the 
men  of  might  who  have  come  up  from  the 
deep  obscurity  of  the  masses.  It  was  a  hid 
eous  red  beard — of  the  irritating  shade  of 
bright  red  with  which  brick  walls  used  to  be 
—perhaps  in  some  parts  of  the  world  still 
are — painted  in  the  spring.  It  grew  patch- 
ily.  In  spots  it  was  straight;  in  other  spots, 
curly.  It  was  so  utterly  out  of  harmony 
with  his  hair  that  opinion  divided  as  to 
which  was  dyed,  and  the  wonder  grew  that 
he  did  not  dye  both  to  some  common  and 
endurable  shade. 

"What  does  he  wear  those  whiskers  for?" 
— "How  can  a  man  with  hair  like  that  on 
his  face  expect  to  get  clients  or  anything 
else?"  Nevertheless,  public  opinion — which 
is  usually  wrong  about  everything,  includ- 

5 


GEORGE    HELM 

ing  its  own  exaggerated  esteem  for  itself— 
was  wrong  in  this  case.  As  soon  as  a  comet 
ceases  to  be  a  visitor  and  settles  down  into 
a  fixed  inhabitant  with  a  regular  orbit  it 
ceases  to  attract  attention,  becomes  obscure, 
acquires  the  dangerous  habit  of  obscurity. 
George  Helm,  only  twenty-four  years  old 
and  without  money,  friends  or  influence, 
might  have  been  driven  back  to  the  farm 
but  for  that  beard. 

Successful  men  feed  their  egotism  with 
such  shallow  and  silly  old  proverbial  stuff 
as,  "You  can't  keep  a  good  man  down,"  and 
"A  husky  hog  will  get  its  nose  to  the 
trough."  But  they  reckon  ill  who  leave  cir 
cumstance  out  of  account  in  human  affairs. 
And  circumstance  does  not  mean  opportun 
ity  seen  and  seized,  but  opportunity  that 
takes  man  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  forci 
bly  thrusts  him  into  responsibility  and  pain 
fully  compels  him  to  acquire  the  education 

6 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

that  finally  leads  to  success.  Those  who 
arrive  forget  that  they  were  not  always  wise 
and  able;  they  forget  how  hardly  they  got 
wisdom  and  capacity,  how  fiercely  their 
native  human  inertia  and  stupidity  fought 
against  learning.  If  some  catastrophe— 
which  God  forbid! — should  wipe  out  at  a 
stroke  all  our  leaders — all  the  geniuses  who 
give  us  employment,  run  our  affairs,  write 
our  books  and  newspapers,  make  our  laws, 
blow  the  whistles  for  us  to  begin  and  to  stop 
work,  tell  us  when  to  go  forth  and  when  to 
come  in  out  of  the  rain — if  some  cataclysm 
should  orphan  us  entirely  of  these  our 
wondrous  wise  guardians,  don't  you  suspect 
that  circumstance  would  almost  overnight 
create  a  new  set  for  us,  quite  as  good,  per 
haps  better?  The  human  race  is  a  vast 
reservoir  of  raw  material  for  any  and  all 
human  purposes.  Let  those  who  find  cheer 
in  feeling  lonely  in  their  unique,  inborn,  in- 

7 


GEORGE    HELM 

evi table  greatness  enjoy  themselves  to  their 
fill.  It  is  their  privilege.  But  it  is  also  the 
privilege  of  plain  men  and  twinkling  stars 
to  laugh  at  them. 

So,  George  Helm's  beard  may  have  had 
more  to  do  with  his  destiny  than  his  conven 
tional  biographers  will  ever  concede.  He 
ceased  to  be  a  comet.  But  he  did  not  cease 
to  attract  attention.  And  his  awkward 
ness,  his  homeliness  and  his  solitary  "states 
man's"  suit  would  not  have  sufficed  to  keep 
him  in  the  public  eye.  That  preposterous 
beard  was  vitally  necessary.  It  accom 
plished  its  mission.  The  months — the  cli- 
entless  months — the  months  of  dwindling 
purse  and  hope  passed.  George  Helm  re 
mained  a  figure  in  Harrison.  Some  men 
were  noted  for  the  toilets  or  the  eccentricity 
or  the  beauty  of  their  wives,  some  men  for 
their  fortunes  or  their  fine  houses,  some  men 
for  dog  or  horse  or  high  power  automobile. 

8 


BEHIND  THE  BEARD 
George  Helm  was  noted  for  his  beard.  It 
served  as  the  gathering  center  for  jokes  and 
stories.  The  whole  town  knew  all  sorts  of 
gossip  about  that  "boy  with  the  whiskers," 
for,  through  the  carmine  mask,  the  boyish 
ness  had  finally  been  descried.  The  local 
papers,  hard  put  for  matter  to  fill  the  space 
round  patent  medicine  advertisements  and 
paid  news  of  dry  goods,  overshoes  and 
canned  vegetables  at  cut  prices,  often 
made  paragraphs  about  the  whiskers.  And 
the  heartiest  laugh  at  these  jests  came 
from  serious,  studious  George  Helm  him 
self. 

"Why  don't  you  shave  'em,  George?" — 
He  was  of  those  men  whom  everybody  calls 
by  the  first  name. 

"You  never  happened  to  see  me  without 
'em?"  Helm  would  reply. 

"I'd  like  to,"  was  usually  the  retort. 

"Well,  I've  seen  myself  without  'em — 
9 


GEORGE    HELM 

and  I  guess  I'm  choosing  the  bluntest  horn 
of  the  dilemma." 

It  never  occurred  to  anyone  in  Harrison 
to  wonder  why,  while  George  Helm's 
whiskers  were  a  butt,  the  young  man  him 
self  was  not.  When  Rostand  made  a  tragic 
hero  of  a  man  with  a  comic  nose,  there  was 
much  outcry  at  the  marvelous  genius  dis 
played  in  the  feat.  In  fact,  that  particular 
matter  required  no  genius  at  all.  There  is 
scarcely  an  individual  of  strongly  marked 
personality  who  has  not  some  characteristic, 
mental  or  physical,  that  is  absurd,  ridicu 
lous.  Go  over  the  list  of  great  men,  past 
and  present;  note  the  fantastic,  grotesque 
physical  peculiarities  alone.  Those  atten 
tion-arresting  peculiarities  helped,  you  will 
observe,  not  hindered,  the  man  in  coming 
into  his  own — the  pot-belly  of  little  Napo 
leon,  the  duck  legs  of  giant  Washington,  the 
drooling  and  twitching  of  Sam  Johnson. 

10 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

Try  how  you  will,  you  cannot  make  a 
man  ridiculous,  unless  he  is  ridiculous. 
Lincoln  could — and  did — play  the  clown 
hours  at  a  time.  Yet  only  shallow  fools  of 
conventionality-worshipers  for  an  instant 
confused  the  man  and  the  clever  story- 
actor.  Harrison  laughed  at  George  Helm's 
whiskers;  but  it  did  not,  because  it  could 
not,  laugh  at  George  Helm. 

But,  being  a  shallow-pated  town,  Harri 
son  fancied  it  was  laughing  at  Helm  him 
self.  It  is  the  habit  of  human  beings  to  mis 
take  clothes  and  whiskers  and  all  manner  of 
mere  externals  for  men.  Occasionally  they 
discover  their  mistake.  Harrison  dis 
covered  its  mistake. 

It  nominated  George  Helm  for  Circuit 
Judge.     There  were    two   parties    in   that 
district — as    there    are    everywhere    else— 
the  Republican  and  the  Democratic.  There 
was  also — as  wherever  else  there  is  any  pub- 

1 1 


GEORGE    HELM 

lie  thing  to  steal — a  third  party  that  owned 
and  controlled  the  other  two.  Sometimes 
this  third  party  "fixes"  the  race  so  that 
Republican  always  wins  and  Democrat 
always  loses;  again,  it  "fixes"  the  race  the 
other  way;  yet  again — where  there  is  what 
is  known  as  an  "intelligent  and  alert  elec 
torate" — this  shrewd  third  party  alternately 
puppets  Republican  and  Democrat  first 
under  the  wire — and  then  how  the  aforesaid 
intelligent  and  alert  people  do  shout  and 
applaud  their  own  sagacity  and  independ 
ence! 

They  say  that  woman  is  lacking  in  the 
sense  of  humor.  There  must  be  something 
in  the  charge.  Otherwise,  would  she  not 
long  ago  have  laughed  herself  to  death  at 
the  political  antics  of  man? 

In  Harrison  and  its  surrounding  country 
the  sentiment  was  overwhelmingly  Republi 
can — which  meant  that  the  majority  of  the 

12 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

"independent"  farmers  and  artisans  who 
were  working  early  and  late  to  enrich  the 
Railway  Trust,  the  Harvester  Trust,  the 
Beef  Trust,  the  Money  Trust,  and  the  rest 
of  the  members  of  the  third  and  only  real 
party,  said,  when  they  sat  doddering  about 
politics,  "Wall,  I  reckon  I'll  keep  on  voting 
as  I  shot."  If  the  community  had  been 
Democratic,  the  dodder  would  have  been, 
"I  think  it's  about  time  to  turn  the  rascals 
out."  Needless  to  say,  the  third  party 
cares  not  a  rap  which  side  wins.  The  vote 
goes  into  the  ballot  box  Republican  or 
Democratic;  it  is  counted  for  the  third 
party.  In  Harrison  the  Republican  candi 
dates  of  the  third  party  always  won,  and  its 
Democratic  candidates  were  put  up  simply 
to  make  things  interesting  for  the  populace 
and  to  give  them  the  feeling  that  they  were 
sovereign  citizens.  The  Republican  candi 
date  for  Circuit  Judge,  the  candidate  slated 

13 


GEORGE    HELM 

to  win  in  a  walk,  was  Judge  Powers.  He 
had  served  two  terms,  to  the  entire  content 
of  the  third  party — and,  being  full  of  pious 
talk  and  solemn  flapdoodle  about  the  "sa- 
credness  of  the  judicial  trust  in  a  commun 
ity  of  freemen,"  to  the  entire  content  of  the 
people.  In  a  hilarious  mood  the  Demo 
cratic  machine,  casting  about  for  its  sacri 
fice  candidate,  nominated  George  Helm— 
or,  rather,  George  Helm's  whiskers. 

It  was  a  side-splitting  joke.  Everybody 
liked  George.  Everybody  knew  about  his 
whiskers — knew  him  by  his  whiskers.  It 
bade  fair  to  inject  that  humor,  so  dearly 
beloved  of  the  American  people,  into  what 
was  usually  a  dull  campaign.  The  only 
trouble  was  that  for  the  first  time  Helm 
failed  to  see  a  joke. 

The  night  of  his  nomination  the  light  in 
Mrs.  Beaver's  tiny,  stuffy  attic  room  went 
out  early.  And  if  you  could  have  looked  in, 

H 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

you  would  have  discovered,  by  the  star 
light  that  the  big  form  was  lying  quite  still 
in  the  little  bed  which  sagged  and  bulged 
with  it.  But  George  Helm  was  not 
asleep.  He  slept  not  a  wink  that  whole 
night.  And  as  soon  as  he  had  finished 
breakfast  he  went  down  to  the  barber  shop 
at  the  corner. 

"Bob,"  said  he  to  the  colored  proprietor, 
"I  want  a  clean  shave." 

"What's  that,  Mr.  Helm?"  exclaimed  the 
amazed  barber.  And  two  loungers  at  the 
table  where  the  sporting  papers  were  spread 
out  sat  up  and  stared. 

"A  clean  shave,  Bob,"  said  Helm  gravely, 
seating  himself  in  the  chair. 

Bob  started  a  broad  grin  that,  with  the 
least  encouragement,  would  have  become  a 
guffaw — and  would  have  echoed  through 
out  the  district.  But  he  did  not  get  the  en 
couragement.  Instead,  he  saw  something  in 

15 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  kind,  deep-set  gray  eyes,  in  the  strong, 
sad  mouth  and  chin,  that  set  him  soberly  to 
work.  The  two  loungers  went  outside  to 
laugh  and  spread  the  news.  But  when  they 
got  outside  they  did  not  laugh.  Why?  It 
is  impossible  to  explain  the  psychology  of 
man  the  mass.  They  put  the  astounding 
news  into  currency — but  not  as  a  joke. 
Helm  was  shaving  his  beard.  What  did  it 
mean? 

"Our  opponents,"  said  Judge  Powers, 
"nominated  a  set  of  whiskers.  The  whis 
kers  have  disappeared — so  there  is  no  one 
running  against  us." 

The  jest,  being  of  the  species  which  it  is 
conventional  to  utter  and  to  laugh  at  on 
stump  and  after-dinner  occasions,  got  its 
momentary  due  of  cackling  and  braying. 
But  the  mirth  did  not  spread.  For,  before 
noon  of  that  first  day  of  the  campaign,  it 
had  been  discovered  that  the  Democratic 

16 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 
machine  had  not  nominated  whiskers,  but  a 
man. 

We  are  in  the  habit  of  regarding  a  human 
being  as  a  mere  conglomerate  of  sundry 
familiar  conventionalities  —  of  dress,  of 
manner,  of  thought.  We  have  formed  the 
habit  because  with  an  occasional  rare  excep 
tion  a  human  being  is  simply  that  and  noth 
ing  more.  So  an  individuality  is  always  a 
startling  apparition — fascinating,  perhaps, 
certainly  terrifying.  The  coming  of  a  man 
makes  us  suddenly  aware  how  few  real  men 
there  are — real  live  men — how  most  of  us 
are  simply  patterns  of  men  who  once  lived, 
or,  rather,  differently  proportioned  com 
posites  of  all  past  men.  The  excitement  in 
peaceful  Harrison  and  its  somnolent  en 
virons  was  almost  hysterical.  For,  in  all 
that  region,  there  was  not,  there  had  not 
been  for  years — not  since  the  stern,  ele 
mental  pioneer  days — a  real  living  man. 


GEORGE    HELM 

All  the  specimens  of  the  genus  homo  were 
of  the  approved  type  of  the  past. 

George  Helm,  man. 

"George,"  said  Bill  Desbrough,  who  had 
a  law  office  across  the  hall  in  the  same 
building — the  Masonic  Temple — "George, 
where'd  you  ever  get  the  notion  of  those 
there  whiskers  youVe  just  shed?" 

"Oh,  the  girls,"  replied  George.  "When 
I  was  a  boy  and  a  youngster  the  girls  made 
fun  of  my  face.  So  I  hid  it  as  soon  as  I 
could — as  well  as  I  could." 

"The  fool  women!"  exclaimed  Desbrough 
in  disgust.  "Why,  George,  you've  got  a 
face." 

"I'm  afraid  so,"  said  George  with  a  rue 
ful  grin,  passing  his  hand  over  the  newly 
emerged  visage. 

"Afraid  so!"  cried  Desbrough.  "Let  me 
tell  you,  old  man,  a  face — a  real  face — is 
about  the  rarest  thing  in  the  world.  Most 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 
so-called  faces  are  nothing  but  front  sides  of 
heads."     Desbrough  looked  at  the  "face" 
narrowly,  searchingly.     "Helm,  I  believe 
you  are  a  great  man." 

George  laughed  delightedly  and  de 
risively — as  a  sensible  man  does  at  a  compli 
ment.  "Oh,  shucks!"  said  he. 

"Anyhow,"  said  Desbrough,  "if  you'd 
have  produced  that  face  a  day  earlier,  you'd 
never  have  got  the  nomination.  A  man 
with  a  face  never  gets  anything  from  the 
powers-that-be,  without  a  fight,  until  he  has 
put  himself  squarely  on  record  as  being 
with  them.  Even  then  they're  always  a 
little  afraid  of  him."  Desbrough  nodded 
thoughtfully.  "And  they  may  well  be, 
damn  'em,"  he  added. 

"Well — I've  got  the  nomination,"  said 
Helm. 

"I  wonder  what  you'll  do  with  it,"  said 
his  friend. 

19 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I'm  wondering  what  it'll  do  with  me" 
replied  Helm. 

Desbrough  glanced  at  him  curiously. 

George  went  on  to  explain.  "Yesterday," 
said  he,  "I  was  a  boy  of  twenty-five" 

"Is  that  all  you  are!"  cried  Desbrough. 
"Why,  even  without  the  whiskers  I'd  have 
said  thirty-five." 

"Oh,  I'm  one  of  those  chaps  who  are  born 
old,"  laughed  Helm.  "I  had  lines  and  even 
wrinkles  when  I  was  eighteen.  I'll  look 
younger  at  forty  than  I  do  now.  Mother 
used  to  say  I  reminded  her  of  her  father- 
that  he  was  homely  enough  to  stop  a  clock 
when  he  was  young  and  kept  getting  hand 
somer  as  he  got  older." 

"I  know  the  kind,"  said  Bill  Desbrough, 
"and  it's  the  best  kind  to  be." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  proceeded  George, 
"yesterday  I  was  a  boy.  As  soon  as  those 
fellows  nominated  me — they  were  laughing 

20 


BEHIND  THE  BEARD 
— they  thought  it  was  a  fine  old  joke — but, 
Bill,  a  queer  sort  of  a  something  happened 
inside  me.  A  kind  of  shock,  like  a  man 
jumping  out  of  a  sound  sleep  to  find  the 
house  afire." 

Desbrough  was  interestedly  watching  the 
face  of  his  friend.  Its  expression  was  indeed 
strange — the  look  of  power — sad,  stern,  in 
exorable — the  look  of  the  men  whose  wills 
and  passions  hurl  them  on  and  on  to  the  con 
quest  of  the  world.  Suddenly  it  changed, 
softened.  The  human  lines  round  the  mo 
bile,  handsome  mouth  appeared.  The  gray 
eyes  twinkled  and  danced.  "So  you  see, 
Bill,"  said  he,  "the  nomination  didn't  lose 
any  time  in  beginning  to  do  things  to  me." 

"And  the  whiskers?" 

"Oh,  they  had  to  go,"  said  George  simply. 
"The  fight  was  on,  and  a  fellow  naturally 
throws  away  all  the  foolishness  before  he 


jumps  in." 


21 


GEORGE    HELM 

"So  you're  going  to  make  a  fight?" 

"Of  course,"  said  George.  "What  else  is 
there  to  do?" 

"But  you  can't  win." 

"You  mean  I  can't  lose.  I've  got  nothing 
to  lose." 

About  the  most  dangerous  character  on 
this  earth  is  a  real  man  who  has  nothing  to 
lose.  When  the  powers-that-be  discover 
such  an  one,  and  are  convinced  that  he  is 
indeed  a  real  man  and  not  a  cunning  bluff  at 
it,  they  hasten  to  give  him  something  to 
lose.  They  don't  feel  safe  until  he  has  wife 
and  children,  or  wealth,  or  position — some 
thing  that  will  fill  one  arm  and  make  the 
other  cautious. 

The  three  counties  constituting  that  judi 
cial  district  will  not  in  many  a  year  forget 
the  first  Helm  campaign.  In  its  second 
week  Judge  Powers  canceled  his  speaking 
dates,  giving  out  that  he  regarded  it  as  un- 
22 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

dignified  for  a  judge  to  descend  in  the 
ermine  to  the  political  arena  and  scramble 
and  tussle  for  votes.  The  truth  was  that 
George  Helm  had  driven  him  to  cover  be 
cause  he  dared  not  face  the  facts  of  his  judi 
cial  record  as  the  young  candidate  pro 
claimed  it  throughout  those  counties,  on  the 
highways,  in  the  by-ways  no  less,  in  town, 
in  village,  in  country. 

The  day  he  began  campaigning  George 
counted  his  cash,  found  that  in  all  the  world 
he  had  three  hundred  and  forty-seven  dol 
lars  and  fifty-six  cents.  He  had  been  cal 
culating  that  this  money  would  keep  him 
housed  and  fed  and  officed  for  about  a  year 
longer,  assuming  that  he  continued  to  be 
absolutely  without  clients.  Then — he  would 
teach  school  and  toss  hay  and  stack  sacks  at 
the  threshing  machine  until  he  had  put  by 
the  money  for  another  two  years'  try.  To 
go  into  the  campaign  meant  to  use  up  his 

23 


GEORGE    HELM 

resources  in  two  months — for  he  could  not 
hope  to  get  any  help  from  the  Democratic 
machine.  Its  "contributions"  from  the  vari 
ous  corporations  would  be  used  in  paying 
the  leaders  and  their  henchmen  for  refrain 
ing  from  "doing  anything  disturbing." 

"Sorry,  Mr.  Helm,"  said  Pat  Branagan, 
the  local  Democratic  boss,  "but  we  can't 
spare  you  a  cent  for  your  campaign." 

"So  I  calculated,"  said  Helm. 

Branagan  had  changed  toward  Helm  the 
instant  he  saw  him  without  a  beard.  Bran 
agan  had  not  risen  to  be  boss  without  learn 
ing  a  thing  or  two  about  human  nature  and 
human  faces.  "There's  no  hope  for  you," 
proceeded  he.  "And  anyhow  I  think  a  ju 
dicial  candidate  ought  to  be  dignified." 

"Oh,  I  don't  see  any  objection  to  his 
showing  himself  to  the  people,"  said 
George,  "and  letting  them  judge  whether 
he's  honest  and  sensible,  and  letting  them 

24 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

hear  what  his  notion  of  justice  is — whether 
he's  for  rich  man's  reading  of  the  law  or 
for  honest  man's  reading  of  it." 

Branagan  puffed  thoughtfully  at  his 
cigar.  If  he  had  been  looking  at  Helm,  he 
might  have  seen  a  covert  twinkle  in  those 
expressive  gray  eyes.  But  he  was  not  look 
ing  at  Helm;  he  didn't  like  to  look  at  him. 
"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  Mr.  Helm,"  he  said. 
He  had  called  Helm  George — George,  with 
a  humorous  grin — until  Bob  Williams,  the 
colored  barber,  performed  that  magic  feat. 
"But  there  won't  be  no  money  for  meetings. 
Meetings  means  hall  rent  and  posters  and 
processions,  and  them  little  kniekknacks 


costs." 


"I  guess  I  can  look  after  that,"  said 
George,  crossing  and  uncrossing  his  long 
legs  and  smoothing  out  a  tail  of  his  shiny 
black  frock  upon  his  knee. 

"You  allow  to  do  some  speaking?" 
25 


UTV 


GEORGE    HELM 

Tm  going  to  hire  a  horse  and  buggy  and 
move  about  some." 

"That's  good.    You  may  stir  up  a  little 
law  business." 
"Maybe  so." 
"Done  any  orating?" 
"Oh,  I've  heard  a  lot  of  speeches,  and 
IVe  made  a  few." 

"Then  you  know  the  kind  of  stuff  to  hand 
out  to  the  people." 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Helm. 
Branagan  was  obviously  relieved  when 
Helm  departed— the  conference  was  held  in 
Pat's  saloon  which  was  the  "hang-out"  for 
the  politicians  and  other  disreputables  of 
the  town.     The  first  class  really  included 
the  last,  for  there  was  not  a  disreputable 
who  was  not  actively  engaged  in  "practical" 
politics.     Helm  negotiated  with  the  livery 
man  round  the  corner  from  Mrs.  Beaver's 
boarding-house,  got  a  buggy  and  a  sound 

26 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

horse  for  two  months  at  two  dollars  and  a 
half  a  day,  he  to  feed  the  horse,  keep  the 
buggy  in  repair  and  do  his  own  driving. 
The  morning  of  the  second  day  after  he  se 
cured  the  nomination,  he  opened  his  cam 
paign. 

Two  days  later — or  rather,  three  nights 
later — so  far  into  the  third  night  that  it  was 
near  the  dawn  of  the  third  day — a  stalled 
automobile  shot  the  powerful  beams  from 
its  acetylene  lamps  into  the  woods  near 
Bixby  Cross  Roads,  about  twenty  miles  to 
the  northeast  of  Harrison.  The  light  fell 
upon  a  buggy,  with  the  horse  taken  from  the 
shafts  and  hitched  to  a  nearby  tree. 

"Hi,  there — I  say!"  came  in  a  man's  voice 
from  the  darkness  of  the  auto. 

This  was  followed  a  moment  later  by, 
"Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!"  in  the  same  voice, 
accompanied  by  the  subdued  laughter  of 
two  women,  on  the  rear  seat  of  the  auto. 

27 


GEORGE    HELM 

The  cause  of  the  exclamation  was  the  ap 
parition  of  a  head  above  the  side  of  the  bed 
of  the  buggy,  and  behind  the  seat— the  head 
of  a  man. 

"Why,  he's  curled  up  in  his  buggy  to 
sleep,"  said  one  of  the  women  in  a  low 
voice. 

But  the  night  was  still   and  the  voice 
had  the  carrying  quality;  so  George  Helm 
heard  distinctly.    As  he  was  as  shy  as  any 
man  is  apt  to  be  who  feels  that  he  is  not 
attractive  to  women,  the  sound  of  a  woman's 
voice — a  young  woman's  voice — threw  him 
into  a  panic.    He  was  acutely  conscious  of 
the  fact  that  the  frock  suit  neatly  folded  was 
under  the  buggy  seat,  and  that  he  had  noth 
ing  on  over  his  underclothes  but  the  lap 
robe.     In  his  alarm  he  cried  out,  "Don't 
come  any  nearer.     What  do  you  want  to 
know?" 

"We've  punctured  a  tire,"  said  the  man. 
28 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

"And  weVe  lost  our  way.    Will  you  come 
and  help  me?" 

"Turn  those  lights  the  other  way,"  said 
Helm. 

There  was  a  chuckle  from  the  direction 
of  the  auto,  a  sound  of  suppressed  female 
laughter.  The  sound  rose,  swelled  until  the 
two  women  and  their  man  and  presently 
George  Helm  were  all  four  laughing  up 
roariously.  The  lights  turned  in  another 
direction.  "Thanks,"  said  Helm.  "I'll  be 
with  you  in  a  minute." 

And  it  was  scarcely  more  than  that  when 
he,  clad  in  the  frock  suit  and  carrying  the 
top  hat  in  his  hand,  advanced  toward  the 
auto.  "Now — what  can  I  do  for  you?" 
inquired  he. 

"Do  you  know  how  to  fit  on  a  tire?"  said 
the  man — he  was  young,  about  George's 
age — but  a  person  of  fashionable  dress  and 
manner. 

29 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I  don't  know  a  thing  about  automobiles," 
replied  Helm. 

"But  I  do,  Bart,"  said  one  of  the  women 
-the  one  with  the  sweeter  voice.  "I  can 
superintend." 

"Are  we  far  from  the  main  road?"  said 
Bart  to  Helm. 

"About  a  mile  and  a  half." 

"I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you.  I'm  Barton 
Hollister." 

The  young  man  spoke  the  name  as  if  he 
were  certain  of  its  being  recognized.  "Oh, 
yes,  I  know  you,  Mr.  Hollister.  We  come 
from  the  same  town — Harrison.  I'm 
George  Helm." 

"I've  heard  of  you,"  said  young  Hollister 
graciously.  "I  suppose  we've  never  hap 
pened  to  meet  because  I'm  at  home  so  little. 
You've  lost  your  way,  too?" 

"No,  I'm  making  a  campaign  through  the 
district." 

30 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

"Oh — yes.  You  were  nominated  by  the 
Democrats  for — for— 

Mr.  Hollister  hesitated  awkwardly. 
"For  Circuit  Judge,"  Helm  supplied. 

"Against  my  cousin,  Judge  Powers. 
These  ladies  are  my  sister  Clara  and  Miss 
Clearwater." 

Helm  bowed  to  the  ladies,  who  smiled 
graciously  at  him.  He  could  see  their  faces 
now — lovely,  delicate  faces  with  the  look  of 
the  upper  class — the  sort  of  women  he  had 
seen  only  at  a  distance  and  had  met  only  in 
novels  and  memoirs. 

"The  chauffeur  was  sick  and  I  was  ass 
enough  to  risk  coming  without  him,"  said 
Hollister.  "Nell,  you'll  have  to  tell  us  what 
to  do." 

There  followed  about  the  most  interesting 
and  exciting  hour  of  George  Helm's  life  up 
to  that  time.  Within  five  minutes  Barton 
Hollister  had  shown  that  he  was  worse  than 


GEORGE    HELM 

useless  for  the  work  in  hand,  had  been  swept 
aside  by  Helm  and  Miss  Clearwater.  He 
smoked  and  fussed  about  and  quarreled 
with  his  sister,  who  was  in  no  very  good 
humor  with  him — "casting  us  away  in  the 
wilderness  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning." 
Helm  and  the  girl  who  knew  toiled  at  re 
moving  the  tire  and  replacing  it.  She  did 
not  know  very  much;  so  in  the  end  Helm 
became  boss  and,  with  her  assistance, 
worked  out  the  problem  from  its  founda 
tions. 

It  isn't  easy  for  an  intelligent  human  be 
ing  to  say  so  much  as  three  sentences  with 
out  betraying  his  intelligence.  And  in  an 
emergency  the  evidences  of  superior  mind 
stand  out  clearly  and  brilliantly.  Thus  it 
came  to  pass  that  in  the  hour's  work  George 
Helm  and  Eleanor  Clearwater  got  a  respect 
each  for  the  other's  intelligence.  His  re 
spect  for  her  was  so  great  that  he  all  but 
32 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

forgot  her  loveliness  and  her  remote  re 
moval  from  the  sphere  of  his  humble,  toil 
some  life.  He  was  tempted  to  prolong  the 
task,  in  spite  of  the  irritation  of  Clara  Hoi- 
lister's  railing,  peevish  voice.  But  he  re 
sisted  the  temptation  and  got  his  visitors  into 
condition  for  departure  with  all  the  speed 
he  could  command. 

They  thanked  him  effusively.  There  was 
handshaking  all  round.  Hollister  and  his 
sister  urged  him  to  call  "soon" — a  diplo 
matic  invitation;  it  sounded  cordial,  yet— 
was  safely  vague.  The  automobile  de 
parted,  and  the  candidate  for  judge  was  free 
to  resume  his  repose  in  the  airy  chamber  he 
had  selected,  to  save  time  and  hotel  bills. 

Two  hours  later  he  made  a  thorough 
toilet  with  the  assistance  of  a  convenient 
spring,  hitched  up  his  horse  and  drove  out 
of  the  woods  and  into  the  by-road  to  search 
for  a  farm-house  and  breakfast.  After 
33 


GEORGE    HELM 

about  a  mile,  and  just  before  he  reached  the 
main  road,  he  saw  ahead  of  him  an  auto— 
the  auto.  In  his  shyness  he  reined  in  his 
horse  and  looked  round  for  some  way  to 
escape.  He,  the  homely,  the  obscure,  the 
wretchedly  poor,  the  badly  dressed,  the 
grotesque  struggler  for  a  foothold  in  life— 
"as  ridiculous  as  a  turtle  on  its  back  and 
trying  to  get  right  side  up" — what  had  he 
to  do  with  those  rich,  grand,  elegant  peo 
ple?  When  they  saw  him  in  the  full  light 
of  day,  needing  a  shave  and  none  too  tidy 
after  his  interrupted  night  out,  they  would 
humiliate  him  with  their  polite  but  not  to 
be  concealed  disdain  of  him.  Bart  Hollister 
suddenly  sprang  from  the  auto  and  shouted 
and  waved.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
go  on. 

Another  tire  had  exploded,  and  Bart  had 
not  dared  leave  the  two  girls  alone;  besides, 
he  would  have  been  lost  the  instant  he  got 
34 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

beyond  the  range  of  the  lights.  "We've 
been  dozing  in  the  car  and  hoping  you'd 
come  along,"  he  ended.  "I'll  bet  you're 
cursing  the  day  you  ever  saw  us.  But — 
couldn't  you  help  put  on  another  tire?" 

A  few  minutes,  and  Helm  and  Eleanor 
Clearwater  were  at  work  again.  But  his 
fingers  were  much  clumsier  now,  and  he  was 
wretchedly  self-conscious.  By  daylight  he 
saw  her  to  be  the  loveliest  woman — so  he 
decided — that  he  had  ever  seen.  About 
twenty  years  old,  with  thick  hair  of  the 
darkish  neutral  shade  that  borrows  each 
moment  new  colors  and  tints  from  the  light; 
with  very  dark  gray  eyes,  so  dark  that  an 
observer  less  keen  than  Helm  might  have 
thought  them  brown.  She  was  neither  tall 
nor  short,  had  one  of  those  figures  that 
make  you  forget  inches,  and  think  only  of 
line  and  proportion.  A  good  straight  nose, 
a  sweet  yet  rather  haughty  mouth.  Her 
35 


GEORGE    HELM 

hands — he  noted  them  especially  as  he  and 
she  worked — were  delicate,  had  a  singular 
softness  that  somehow  contrived  to  com 
bine  with  firmness.  They  were  cool  to  the 
touch — and  her  voice  was  cool,  even  when 
talking  intimately  with  Clara  Hollister  and 
her  brother.  Not  the  haughty  reserve  of 
caste,  but  the  attractive  human  reserve  of 
those  to  whom  friendship  and  love  are  not 
mere  words  but  deep  and  lasting  emotions. 
When  he  took  off  his  coat  to  go  to  work 
Helm  was  so  thoroughly  flustered  that  he 
did  not  think  of  his  linen — or  rather,  of  his 
cotton  and  celluloid — or  of  the  torn  back  of 
his  waistcoat,  or  of  the  discolored  lining  of 
his  coat.  But  when  he  was  ready  to  resume 
the  coat  he  suddenly  saw  and  felt  all  these 
horrors  of  his  now  squalid  poverty.  She 
was  apparently  unaware;  but  he  knew  that 
she  too  had  seen,  had  felt.  Unconsciously 
he  looked  at  her  with  a  humble  yet  proud 

36 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

appeal — the  effort  the  soul  sometimes  makes 
to  face  directly  another  soul,  with  no  mis 
leading  veil  of  flesh  and  other  externals 
between.  Their  eyes  met;  she  colored 
faintly  and  glanced  away. 

Clara  and  Barton  were  for  dashing 
strpight  on  home  to  breakfast — a  run  of 
about  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  But  Miss 
Clearwater  was  not  for  the  risk.  "I'm 
starved,"  said  she.  "I've  worked  hard,  with 
these  two  tires.  Mr.  Helm  will  find  us 
breakfast  in  this  neighborhood." 

"I  was  going  to  ask  them  to  give  me 
something  at  Jake  Hibbard's,  about  half  a 
mile  further  on,"  said  Helm.  "It'll  be  plain 
food,  but  pretty  good." 

And  it  was  pretty  good— coffee,  fresh 
milk,  corn  bread,  fried  chicken  and  pota 
toes,  corn  cakes  and  maple  syrup.  Barton 
and  Clara  ate  sparingly.  It  made  George 
Helm  feel  closer  to  the  goddess  to  see  that 
37 


GEORGE    HELM 

she  ate  as  enthusiastically  as  did  he.  "I 
never  saw  you  eat  like  this,  Nell,"  said 
Clara,  not  altogether  admiring. 

"You  never  saw  me  when  I  had  things  I 
really  liked,"  replied  she. 

"The  way  to  get  your  food  to  be  really 
tasty,"  observed  Mrs.  Hibbard,  "is  to 
earn  it." 

Miss  Clearwater  deigned  to  be  interested 
in  Mr.  Helm's  campaign.  "I  know  some 
thing  about  politics,"  said  she.  "My  father 
was  United  States  Senator  a  few  years 
ago." 

"Oh — you're  George  Clearwater's  daugh 
ter?"  said  Helm.  He  knew  all  about  Clear- 
water,  the  lumber  "king"  who  had  bought 
a  seat  in  the  Senate  because  his  wife  thought 
she'd  like  Washington  socially. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl.  "I'm  the  only 
child.  And  you — are  you  going  to  be 
elected?" 

38 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

"Judge  Powers's  plurality  was  more  than 
his  opponent's  whole  vote  last  time,"  said 
Helm. 

"Then  you  haven't  much  hope?" 

"I  don't  hope — I  work,"  said  Helm. 

As  they  talked  on,  he  saying  nothing  be 
yond  what  was  necessary  to  answer  the 
questions  put  to  him,  it  was  curious  to  see 
how  he,  the  homely  and  the  shabby,  became 
the  center  of  interest.  His  personality  com 
pelled  them  to  think  and  to  talk  about  him, 
to  revolve  round  him — this,  though  he  was 
shrinking  in  his  shyness  and  could  scarcely 
find  words  or  utterance  for  them. 

"What  a  queer  man,"  said  Clara,  when 
the  auto  was  under  way  again.  "He's  very 
dowdy  and  ugly,  but  somehow  you  sort  of 
like  him." 

"He's  not  so  ugly,"  said  Miss  Clearwater. 

"Perhaps  not — for  a  man  of  his  class," 
said  Clara.  "I  like  to  meet  the  lower  class 

39 


GEORGE    HELM 

people  once  in  awhile.  They're  very  inter 
esting." 

"I  guess,"  said  Miss  Clearwater,  ab 
sently,  "that  father  was  a  good  deal  that 
sort  of  a  man  when  he  was  young." 

Clara  laughed.  "Oh,  nonsense,"  she 
cried.  "Your  father  amounted  to  some 
thing." 

"He  started  as  a  pack  peddler." 

Clara  would  not  be  outdone  in  gener 
ous  candor.  "Well — papa  was  a  farm 
hand.  Don't  all  that  sort  of  thing  seem 
terribly  far  away,  Nell?  Just  look  at 
us.  Think  of  us  marrying  a  man  like  this 
Helm." 

Miss  Clearwrater  shivered.  "He  was 
pretty  dreadful — wasn't  he?" 

"I  don't  suppose  the  poor  fellow  ever  had 
a  decent  suit  in  his  life — or  ever  before  met 
ladies." 

"Yet,"  said  Miss  Clearwater,  absent  and 
40 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 
reflective,  "there's  no  telling  what  he'll  be, 
before  he  gets  through." 

"Talking  about  your  conquest,  Nell?" 
called  Bart  from  the  front  seat. 

Miss  Clearwater  colored  haughtily.  Clara 
cried,  "Don't  be  rude,  Bart." 

"Rude?"  retorted  Hollister.  "Anyone 
could  see  with  half  an  eye  that  he  was  over 
head  in  love  with  Nell.  Wait  till  he  comes 
to  call." 

"Call?"  Clara  laughed.  "He'd  never 
venture  to  appear  at  our  front  door." 

"We'll  go  to  hear  him  when  he  strikes 
Harrison,"  said  Bart. 

"Indeed  we'll  not,"  replied  his  sister. 
"He'd  misunderstand  and  presume.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Nell?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  Clearwater  promptly 
* — too  promptly. 

But  long  before  Helm  and  his  campaign 
reached  Harrison  there  were  other  reasons 


GEORGE    HELM 

why  the  Hollisters,  indeed  all  the  "best 
people,"  could  not  show  themselves  at  a 
Helm  meeting. 

The  ignorance  of  the  mass  of  mankind 
has  made  government  an  arrangement 
whereunder  the  many  labor  for  the  pros 
perity  of  the  few.  The  pretexts  for  this 
scheme  and  the  devices  for  carrying  it  out 
have  varied;  but  the  scheme  itself  has  not 
varied — and  will  not  vary  until  the  night  of 
ignorance  and  the  fog  of  prejudice  shall 
have  been  rolled  away.  All  things  consid 
ered,  it  is  most  creditable  to  human  nature 
and  most  significant  of  the  moral  power  of 
enlightenment,  that  the  intelligent  few  have 
dealt  so  moderately  with  their  benighted 
fellows  and  have  worked  so  industriously 
to  end  their  own  domination  by  teaching 
their  servitors  the  way  of  emancipation; 
for  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  the  light 
comes  only  from  above,  that  the  man  who 
42 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

has  emancipated  himself  could  always,  if 
he  chose,  be  oppressor.  Our  modern  Amer 
ican  version  of  this  ancient  scheme  of  the 
few  exploiting  the  many  consists  of  two 
essential  parts — laws  cunningly  designed  to 
enable  the  few  to  establish  their  toll  gates 
upon  every  road  of  labor;  courts  shrewdly 
officered  so  that  the  judges  can,  if  they  will, 
issue  the  licenses  for  the  aforesaid  toll 
gates,  which  are  not  as  a  rule  established, 
but  simply  permitted,  by  the  law.  The 
treacherous  legislator  enacts  the  slyly 
worded  authorization;  the  subservient 
judge — no,  rather,  the  judge  chosen  frpm, 
and  in  sympathy  with,  the  dominant  class 
—reads  the  permissive  statute  as  manda 
tory. 

This  primer  lesson  in  politics,  known  to 

all  men  who  have  opportunity  to  learn  and 

who  see  fit  to  seize  the  opportunity,  was  of 

course  known  to  George  Helm.    But  he  did 

43 


GEORGE    HELM 

not  content  himself  with  a  dry,  tiresome, 
"courteous"    statement    of    the    fact.      He 
brought  it  home  to  the  people  of  those  three 
counties  by  showing  precisely  what  Judge 
Powers  had  done  in  his  seven  years  as  the 
people's  high  officer  of  justice — by  relating 
in  detail  the  favors  he  had  granted  to  the 
railways,   both  steam  and  trolley,   to  the 
monopolies  in  every  necessity  of  life.     He 
also  gave  an  account  of  Judge  Powers's 
material  prosperity,  his  rapid  rise  to  riches 
in  those  seven  years,   and  the  flourishing 
condition    of    his    relatives    and    intimate 
friends,  the  men  owning  stock  in  the  rail 
way  and  other  monopolies.    In  a  word,  the 
young  candidate  made  what  is  known  as 
a  "blatherskite"  campaign.      In  his  youth 
and  simplicity  he  imagined  that,  as  a  candi 
date,  it  was  his  duty  to  tell  the  truth  to  the 
people.     He  did  not  know  the  difference 
between  the  two  kinds  of  truth — decent  and 
44 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

indecent — decent  truth  that  gives  every 
body  a  comfortable  sense  of  general  deprav 
ity,  and  indecent  truth  that  points  out  spe 
cific  instances  of  depravity,  giving  names, 
dates  and  places. 

"Let  those  who  will  benefit  by  Judge 
Powers's  notion  of  justice  and  law  vote  for 
him,"  said  Helm.  "I  ask  those  who  will 
benefit  by  my  notion  of  law  and  justice  to 
vote  for  me." 

The  Democratic  machine  hastened  to  dis 
avow  Helm's  plainness  of  speech.  The 
newspapers,  Democratic  no  less  than  Re 
publican,  ignored  him.  But  the  scandal 
would  not  down.  The  news  of  Helm's 
charges — of  his  unparliamentary  statements 
of  fact — spread  from  village  to  village, 
from  farm  to  farm.  Within  a  week  it  was 
no  longer  necessary  for  him  to  distribute 
handbills  and  call  at  farm-houses  to  an 
nounce  his  meetings.  Wherever  he  went  he 
45 


GEORGE    HELM 

found  a  crowd  Waiting  to  hear  his  simple 
conversational  appeal  to  common-sense — 
and,  after  hearing,  bursting  into  cheers.  In 
private,  in  handshaking  and  talking  with 
the  farmers  and  villagers,  he  was  all  humor, 
full  of  homely,  witty  stories  and  jests.  But 
the  moment  he  stood  up  as  the  candidate 
addressing  the  people,  the  face  lost  its 
humor  lines,  the  eyes  their  twinkle,  and  he 
uttered  one  plain,  serious  sentence  after  an 
other,  each  making  a  point  against  Judge 
Powers. 

The  strong  homely  face  grew  rapidly 
thinner.  The  deep-set  gray  eyes  sank  still 
deeper  beneath  the  overhanging  brows.  As 
for  the  frock  suit,  it  soon  became  a  wretched 
exhibit  from  a  rag  bag.  The  "respectable" 
people — that  is,  those  owning  the  stocks 
and  bonds  of  Judge  Powers's  protege  com 
panies — laughed  at  the  fantastic  figure, 
roving  about  in  the  mud-stained  buggy. 
46 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

But — "the  common  people  heard  him 
gladly." 

After  six  weeks  of  campaigning  with 
farmers  and  villagers,  Helm  felt  strong 
enough  to  attack  the  fortress — Harrison. 
There  are  those  in  Harrison  who  can 
still  tell  in  minutest  detail  of  the  coming 
of  Helm — driving  slowly,  toward  mid 
day,  down  the  main  street — the  direct 
way  to  Mrs.  Beaver's  boarding-house.  The 
top  hat  was  furry  and  dusty.  The  black 
frock  suit  was  streaked  and  stained,  was 
wrinkled  and  mussed.  The  big  shoul 
ders  drooped  wearily.  But  the  powerful 
head  was  calmly  erect,  and  there  was 
might  in  the  great,  toil-scarred  hands 
that  held  the  reins  on  the  high  bony 
knees. 

Not  in  the  worst  days  of  the  whiskers 
had  George  Helm  been  so  ludicrous  to  look 
at.  But  no  one  laughed.  The  crowds  along 
47 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  sidewalks  gazed  in  silence  and  awe.  A 
man  had  come  to  town. 

That  afternoon  he  spoke  in  Court  House 
square — that  afternoon,  and  again  after 
supper,  and  twice  every  day  for  a  week. 
Never  had  there  been  such  crowds 
at  political  meetings — and,  toward  the 
last,  never  such  enthusiasm.  The  sud 
denness,  the  strangeness  of  the  attack 
paralyzed  the  opposition.  It  accepted 
Judge  Powers's  dignified  suggestion — "the 
fellow  is  beneath  contempt,  is  unworthy  of 
notice." 

At  the  end  of  the  week,  off  went  George 
to  the  sparser  regions  again,  repeating  the 
queer  triumph  of  his  first  tour.  And  every 
one  was  asking  every  one  else,  What  are  the 
people  going  to  do?  Reichman,  the  Repub 
lican  boss,  put  this  question  to  Democratic 
boss  Branagan  when  they  met  a  few  even 
ings  before  the  election  on  the  neutral 
48 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

ground  of  Tom  Duffy's  saloon  and  oyster 
parlor. 

"What  do  you  think  the  people  are  going 
to  do?"  asked  Reichman. 

"Dun'  no,"  said  Branagan.  "But  I  know 
what  I'm  goin'  to  do." 

This,  with  a  wicked  grin  and  a  wink. 
Said  Reichman,  "Me,  too,  Pat." 

And  they  did  it.  Not  a  difficult  thing  to 
do  at  any  election,  for  the  people  know  little 
about  election  machinery,  and  do  not  watch 
—indeed,  what  would  the  poor  blind,  igno 
rant  creatures  find  out  if  they  did  watch? 
Yes,  Reichman  and  his  Democratic  partner 
did  it.  The  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  when 
the  machinery  of  both  parties  is  in  the  same 
hands. 

The  country  went  strongly  for   Helm. 

But  Harrison  and  the  three  other  towns  of 

the  district  more  than  "saved  the  day  for 

the  sanctity  of  the  ermine  and  the  politics 

49 


GEORGE    HELM 

of  gentlemen."  Judge  Powers  was  re- 
elected  by  an  only  slightly  reduced  plural 
ity.  Helm  had  polled  three  times  as  many 
votes  as  any  Democratic  candidate  ever  had. 
But  the  famous  "silent,  stay-at-home  voter" 
had  come  forth  and  had  saved  the  republic. 
That  famous  retiring  patriot! — so  retiring 
that  the  census  men  cannot  find  him  and 
the  undertaker  never  buries  him.  But  no 
matter.  He  is  our  greatest  patriot.  He 
always  appears  when  his  country  needs  him. 

No  one  saw  Helm  on  election  night.  At 
Mrs.  Beaver's  it  was  said  that  he  had  gone 
to  bed  at  the  usual  time.  Next  day  he  ap 
peared,  looking  much  as  usual.  The  gray 
eyes  were  twinkling;  the  humorous  lines 
round  the  mouth  were  ready  for  action.  He 
went  to  see  Branagan  at  the  saloon.  They 
sat  down  to  a  friendly  glass  of  beer. 

"Well,  Mr.  Helm,"  said  Branagan,  "you 
lost." 

50 


BEHIND    THE    BEARD 

"The  election — yes,"  said  Helm. 

"Everything,"  said  Branagan. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  George  softly.  "Next 
time  I  may  win." 

Branagan's  hard  blue  eyes  looked  straight 
into  Helm's.  Said  he:  "There  ain't  goin' 
to  be  no  next  time — fur  you." 

Helm  returned  the  gaze.  "Yes,  there  is, 
Pat,"  said  he. 

"Goin'  to  make  a  livin',  practicin'  before 
Judge  Powers — eh?" 

"No.  I'm  going  up  the  State  to  teach 
school.  But  I'm  coming  back." 

"Oh — hell,"  said  Pat  Branagan — a  jeer, 
but  an  ill-tempered  one. 

On  his  way  uptown  again  George  Helm 
almost  walked  into  Eleanor  Clearwater  and 
Clara  Hollister.  He  lifted  his  hat  and 
bowed,  blushing  deeply.  The  two  girls 
looked  past  him.  Clara  seemed  uncon 
scious  that  he  was  there;  Eleanor  slightly 


GEORGE    HELM 

inclined  her  head — a  cold,  polite  acknowl 
edgment  of  the  salute  of  a  mistaken  stran 
ger. 

Helm  put  on  the  frayed  and  f rowzled  top 
hat.  His  embarrassment  left  him.  With  a 
sweet  and  simple  smile  of  apology  that 
made  the  strong  homely  face  superbly 
proud,  he  strode  erectly  on. 


II 

THE  CAT'S-PAW 

PAT  BRANAGAN,  Democratic  boss 
of  Harrison,  had  said  to  George 
Helm,  his  defeated  nominee  for 
circuit  judge:  "There  ain't  goin'  to  be  no 
next  time — fur  you."  He  had  said  this  in 
circumstances  of  extreme  provocation.  The 
young  candidate,  nominated  as  a  joke,  nom 
inated  to  help  the  Republican  machine  roll 
up  a  "monumental  majority"  for  Judge 
Powers,  judicial  agent  of  the  interests  own 
ing  both  party  machines — the  young  candi 
date  had  made  a  house  to  house,  stump  to 
stump  campaign,  had  exposed  Judge  Pow 
ers,  had  forced  both  machines  to  commit 
wholesale  election  frauds  to  prevent  his  de- 

53 


GEORGE    HELM 

feat.  But  Mr.  Branagan's  anger  had  not 
been  the  real  cause  of  his  serving  notice  on 
the  big,  homely  young  lawyer  that  he  would 
never  get  another  nomination  from  the 
Democratic  party  of  the  city  of  Harrison. 
Mr.  Branagan  did  not  conduct  his  life  with 
his  temper.  If  he  had  done  so,  he  would 
not  have  become  boss,  but  would  have  re 
mained  a  crumb-fed  private.  He  had  rea 
sons — reasons  of  sound  business  sense — for 
"double  crossing"  George  Helm.  The 
Helm  sort  of  Democrat,  attacking  corrup 
tion,  smashing  at  the  Republican  machine, 
rousing  the  people  to  suspect  and  to  reflect 
and  to  revolt,  was  a  dangerous  menace  to 
the  Branagan  income. 

"He's  one  of  them  there  damned  agita 
tors  that's  bad  for  business,"  said  Mr. 
Branagan  to  his  friend  and  partner,  the  Re 
publican  boss.  "Everything's  running  quiet 
and  smooth  here,  and  the  people's  satisfied. 

54 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

If  that  fellow  had  his  way,  they'd  be  at- 
tendin'  to  politics  instead  of  to  their  jobs." 

"That's  right,"  said  Reichman.  "My 
people" — meaning  the  corporations  whose 
political  agent  he  was — "my  people  under 
stand  you  didn't  intend  to  do  it.  They  look 
to  you  to  get  rid  of  him."  Reichman  said 
"my  people"  rather  than  "your  people," 
because  Republican  partisans  being  over 
whelmingly  in  the  majority  in  that  district, 
the  interests  had  him  for  chief  political 
manager,  and  dealt  with  the  Democratic 
boss  only  through  him.  If  Reichman  had 
been  strictly  accurate  he  would  not  have 
said  "my  people,"  but  "the  people";  for 
the  interests  are  the  only  people  who  have 
not  power  in  politics. 

"Helm's  leaving,  all  right,"  said  Brana- 

gan.    "That  there  campaign  of  his  used  up 

his  money.    He  never  had  no  law  business, 

and  he's  smart  enough  to  know  he'll  never 

55 


GEORGE    HELM 

get  none  hereabouts,  so  long  as  Powers  is 
on  the  bench.  So  he's  gone  up  the  State 
to  teach  school." 

"Well,  that's  the  last  of  him/'  said  Reich- 
man.  "I'm  kind  of  sorry  for  him,  Pat. 
He's  a  damn  nice  young  fellow." 

"Yes — and  a  mighty  good  stumper,  too." 
With  a  grin,  "He  landed  on  your  friend  the 
Judge — jaw,  solar  plexus,  kidneys — had 
him  groggy." 

The  two  bosses  laughed  uproariously. 
Then  Branagan  said:  "Yes,  George  Helm's 
a  nice  boy.  But  I  don't  like  him.  If  he'd 
a  won  out,  he'd  a  made  it  hot  for  me — and 
for  you,  too." 

"But  he  didn't,"  said  Reichman.  "And 
he's  all  in.  I  can  think  well  of  the  dead." 

"I  don't  like  him,"  growled  Branagan. 
"He  fooled  me  with  those  crazy  red  whis 
kers  of  his.  I  knew  what  he  was  the  first 
time  I  saw  him  after  he  cut  'em  off — that 

56 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

was  the  day  after  I  put  him  on  the 
ticket.  When  a  man  fools  me,  he  makes  me 
mad." 

"He  fooled  everybody,"  said  Reichman 
soothingly.  "And  as  it  has  turned  out 
there's  no  harm  done.  The  way  we  made 
him  walk  the  plank'll  be  a  warning  to  any 
other  young  smart  Alecks  there  are  in  these 
parts,  thinking  of  upsetting  things." 

It  certainly  looked  as  if  George  Helm 
were  dead  and  done  for  in  that  community. 
But  Patrick  Branagan  was  a  sensible  man. 
Vain  men  concern  themselves  about  likes 
and  dislikes;  sensible  men,  about  advan 
tages  and  disadvantages.     It  came  to  pass 
in   that  winter,  while  George  Helm  was 
teaching  school  up  the  State,  and  saving 
money  for  another  attempt  as   a  lawyer, 
Branagan  and  Reichman  fell  out  about  the 
division  of  the  graft.    Branagan  was  a  slow 
thinker,  but  it  gradually  penetrated  to  him 
57 


GEORGE    HELM 

that  in  George  Helm  he  had  a  threat 
wherewith  he  could,  or,  rather,  should,  ex 
tort  for  himself  a  larger  share  of  the  spoils. 
Helm,  making  a  single-handed  campaign 
against  both  machines — for  the  Branagan 
machine  had  repudiated  him — had  carried 
the  district,  had  been  kept  out  of  office  only 
by  the  most  barefaced  frauds  in  Harrison 
and  the  three  large  towns.  So  Branagan 
told  Reichman  that  unless  his  share— in  the 
vice  money,  in  the  "campaign  contribu 
tions"  and  in  the  contracts— were  raised  to 
an  equality  with  Reichman's  own  share, 
he  would  bring  Helm  back.  Reichman 
laughed,  Branagan  insisted.  Reichman 
grew  insulting.  Branagan  presented  an 
ultimatum.  Reichman  answered  by  cutting 
Branagan's  third  to  a  fourth. 

In  May  Branagan  went  up  to  Mrs.  Beav 
er's  boarding  house.  Yes,  Mr.  Helm  had 
left  his  address.  "And,"  said  Mrs.  Beaver, 

58 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

"he  sends  me  regular  his  rent  for  the  room 
he  had." 

"What  does  he  do  that  for?"  said  Brana- 
gan. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Beaver. 
"He  was  mighty  queer  in  lots  of  ways.  No, 
I  can't  nohow  work  it  out  why  he  sends  me 
the  two  dollars  a  week — and  him  so  poor  he 
had  to  do  his  own  washing  and  mending— 
and  wore  celluloid." 

But  Branagan  knew,  on  second  thought. 
So  the  young  damn  fool  did  intend  to  come 
back — had  kept  his  legal  residence  in  Har 
rison.  Though  this  news  was  altogether 
satisfactory  to  Branagan's  plans,  it  gave  him 
a  qualm.  What  a  stubborn,  dangerous  chap 
this  boy  was!  However — his  fear  of  Helm 
was  vague  and  remote,  his  need  of  him 
clear  and  near.  He  took  the  midnight  ex 
press  for  the  north  and  was  at  George 
Helm's  boarding  house  on  the  lake  front  at 
59 


GEORGE    HELM 

Saskaween  as  George,  with  breakfast  fin 
ished  and  his  cigar  lighted,  was  starting  out 
for  a  stroll. 

"I'll  go  along,"  said  Pat.  "Throw  away 
that  cigar  and  let  me  give  you  a  good  one." 

"If  it's  like  the  one  you're  smoking,"  said 
George,  "it's  not  good.  But  it's  better  than 
my  five-center." 

"I  pay  a  quarter  apiece  for  my  cigars," 
said  Branagan.  "And  I  think  I  know  a 
good  cigar." 

"You  think  it's  good  because  Len  Mel- 
cher  charges  you  a  quarter  for  it,"  replied 
Helm. 

"What  do  you  know  about  good  cigars, 
anyhow?"  said  Branagan,  ruffled  that  this 
poor  school  teacher  should  presume  to  be 
critical. 

Helm  might  have  explained  that  he  hap 
pened  to  be  one  of  those  people  who  are 
born  with  intensely  acute  senses — eyes  that 

60 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

see,  ears  that  hear,  nerves  of  touch,  taste 
and  smell  that  respond  where  the  ordinary 
nerve  remains  inert.  But  he  contented  him 
self  with  a  good-natured  laugh  and  a  cheer 
ful,  "Where's  the  cigar?  And  what  do  you 
want,  Pat?" 

Branagan  drew  the  cigar  from  his  well- 
filled  waistcoat  pocket.  "How'd  you  like 
to  go  to  the  State  Legislature  next  winter, 
as  Senator  from  down  yonder?"  he  said. 

Helm  lit  the  quarter  cigar  from  his 
"five-center,"  strode  along  in  silence  beside 
his  shorter  and  stouter  companion.  He  fi 
nally  said: 

"So  you  and  Reichman  have  fallen  out?" 

"Personally,  we're  friends,"  replied  the 
Democratic  boss  with  an  air  of  virtue  earn 
est  enough,  but  so  grotesque  that  it  did  not 
even  seem  hypocritical.  "But  in  politics 
we  are  and  always  have  been  enemies." 

Helm's      deep-set      gray      eyes      gazed 
61 


GEORGE    HELM 

shrewdly  at  the  heavy  red  face  of  the  boss. 
"And,"  he  went  on,  as  if  Branagan  had  not 
spoken,  "you  want  to  use  me  as  a  club  for 
bringing  him  to  terms." 

"Who's  been  handing  you  out  that  line 
of  dope?"  said  Branagan  noisily. 

Helm  ignored  this  blustering  bluff  as  un 
worthy  of  reply.  He  said :  "When  do  you 
want  your  answer?" 

"I  ain't  offered  you  no  nomination,"  pro 
tested  Branagan  angrily.  "I  just  put  out 
a  suggestion." 

"Oh — you  want  to  make  terms? — want  to 
pledge  me?— want  to  see  if  you  can  control 
me?"  Helm  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 
"Nothing  doing,  Pat,"  he  said. 

"Now,  look  here,  George — why' re  you  so 
damn  suspicious?  I'm  older'n  you  and  I've 
been  all  through  the  game.  Let  me  tell 
you,  my  boy,  you're  trying  to  get  in  the 
wrong  way.  There's  nothing  in  that  there 

62 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

end  of  the  game.  A  fellow  who  works  for 
the  people  works  for  somebody  that's  got 
nothing,  and  is  a  fool,  to  boot.  Get  in 
right,  George.  Work  for  them  as  can  and 
will  do  something  for  you." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  thinking  of  working  for  the 
people,"  replied  Helm,  amused.  "I'm 
working  for  myself — for  my  own  amuse 
ment.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  have  a 
good  time  in  my  life — not  what  you'd  call 
a  good  time,  perhaps,  but  the  kind  of  a  time 
that  suits  me.  I  don't  care  for  money- 
nor  for  the  things  money  buys.  I  rather 
think  the  kind  of  woman  I'd  want  wouldn't 
want  me — so  I'm  not  going  to  have  a 
wife  and  family  to  work  for.  I've  de 
cided  to  be  my  own  boss — and  to  do  as  I 
damn  please." 

"You're  a  queer  chap,  for  sure,"  said 
Branagan.  "But  let  me  tell  you  one  thing. 
A  man  that  sets  out  to  do  as  he  pleases  has 

63 


GEORGE    HELM 

got  to  have  a  lot  of  money — unless  he 
pleases  to  be  a  hobo,  or  near  it.  You'd 
better  wait  till  you've  made  your  pile  before 
you  put  your  nose  in  the  air." 

"I've  thought  of  that,"  said  Helm.  "Yes, 
I've  got  to  have  money.  They  can  always 
do  me  up  as  long  as  I'm  poor.  But  I'm 
going  to  make  it  in  my  own  way." 

"I  can  help  you,"  said  Branagan. 

"Yes — you  could,"  admitted  Helm. 

"You'd  not  have  to  touch  a  cent  that 
wasn't  perfectly  honest  graft." 

Helm  laughed. 

"What's  the  joke?"  demanded  Branagan. 

"I  was  thinking  how  plainly  you  were 
showing  me  your  hand.  How  you  must 
need  me  to  travel  clear  across  the  State  to 
see  me,  and  then  to  talk  straight  out  like 
this." 

Branagan  frowned — grinned.  "I  don't 
need  you  any  more  than  you  need  me," 

64 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

retorted  he.    "Not  as  bad.    How  much  does 
this  job  you've  got  pay?" 
"Sixty-five  a  month." 

"And    you    an    educated    man.      That 
was  a  pretty  good  hash  house   you're  liv- 


in'  in." 


"Fourth  rate.  But  my  bed's  clean  and 
the  food  is  good." 

"Sixty-five  a  month!  I  can  put  you  in 
the  way  of  makin'  that  much  a  day — if  you 
deliver  the  goods." 

"Meaning— 

"If  you  carry  in  my  ticket  next  fall — and 
behave  yourself  like  a  sensible  man  after 
you  get  in." 

"What  was  my  majority  in  the  district 
last  fall?"  Helm  suddenly  asked. 

"About  twelve  hundred,"  replied  Brana- 
gan. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Helm.  "If  I'd  had 
five  thousand  dollars  I'd  have  sent  you  and 

65 


GEORGE    HELM 

Reichman  to  the  pen  for  the  frauds.     But 
you  knew  I'd  be  helpless." 

The  Democratic  boss  gave  him  an  amia 
ble  and  sympathetic  look.  Said  he:  "A 
man  without  money  is  always  helpless, 
George.  And  the  further  he  goes  the  surer 
he  is  to  fall — and  fall  hard." 

"I  know.  I've  got  to  have  enough  to 
make  me  independent." 

"How're  you  goin'  to  get  it,  my  boy?" 

'That's  what  I've  been  trying  to  figure 
out,"  confessed  Helm.  "Thus  far  I've  not 
found  the  answer." 

"You'll  never  find  it  where  you're  look 
ing,"  said  Branagan.  "The  people — they 
ain't  goin'  to  give  it  to  you.  And  you  ain't 
goin'  to  get  no  law  cases  unless  you're  in 
right.  If  you  did  get  a  good  law  case,  it'd 
be  decided  against  you." 

Helm's  expression  was  admission  that  the 
boss  was  right. 

66 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

"And,"  proceeded  Branagan,  "if  you  de 
cided  to  make  money  by  going  into  business 
—that's  slow,  and  anyhow  you'll  have  to 
graft  or  you  won't  make  nothin'.  I  tell  you, 
George—  They  call  us  politicians  graft 
ers.  But  the  truth  is  we're  a  damn  sight 
honester  than  the  business  men  or  the  law 
yers — or  any  other  class  except  them  that 
ain't  got  no  chance  to  graft.  The  worst  of 
us  ain't  no  worse  than  the  best  of  them 
swell,  big-figger  grafters  like  Hollister  and 
Powers.  And  the  best  of  us  is  a  hell  of  a 
sight  honester.  We've  got  some  friendship 
in  us.  And  I've  yet  to  see  the  respectable, 
tony,  church-going  grafter  I'd  trust  unless 
I  had  him  in  writing.  What's  the  matter 
nowadays  with  Al  Reichman?  Why,  as 
long  as  he  was  just  a  plain  low-down  poli 
tician  he  kept  his  word  and  played  square. 
But  now  that  he's  married  among  the  swells 
and  has  taken  up  the  respectable  end  of  the 

67 


GEORGE    HELM 

game,  he's  as  crooked  as — as  Judge  Pow 


ers." 


"I  can't  make  up  my  mind  what  to  do 
about  Reichman,"  said  Branagan  to  Helm. 

"Haven't  you  got  your  orders  from  the 
crowd  that's  behind  both  of  you?"  inquired 
Helm. 

"Yes — to  let  him  alone — to  let  up  on 
him." 

"Then— that's  what  you'll  do." 

"I  suppose  so,"  Branagan  reluctantly  ad 
mitted.  "I  wisht  I  was  as  young  as  you, 
George — and  had  my  old-time  nerve — and 
didn't  have  an  expensive  family.  I'd  take 
a  chance." 

"Of  being  able  to  stay  in  now  that  you're 
in?" 

"That's  it.  Damn  it,  I  sometimes  believe 
we  could." 

Helm  shook  his  head.  "The  district  is 
normally  seven  thousand  Republicans  out 

68 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

of  a  total  vote  of  eighteen  thousand.  It'd 
take  ten  years  of  hard  work — and  honest 
politics — to  change  that  round  to  a  small 
steady  Democratic  plurality." 

"But  the  people  are  crazy  about  you!9 
"They  won't   reelect   me,"    said    Helm. 
"Next   time   they'll   be   back  in   the   har 


ness." 


"For  a  youngster  you  take  a  mighty 
gloomy  view  of  things." 

"I  don't  delude  myself.  I  don't  dare. 
I've  been  making  my  own  living  since  I  was 
ten  and  I've  got  to  go  on  making  it  till  I 
die." 

"Yes,  the  people  are  mutts,"  said  Brana- 
gan.  "They  were  born  to  be  trimmed.  .  .  . 
So — if  you  was  in  my  place  you'd  fix  up  a 
peace  with  Reichman?" 

"No,"  said  Helm.  "I  shouldn't.  But 
you  ought  to  do  it.  You  don't  want  to  make 
a  losing  fight  for  ten  years — do  you?  You 


GEORGE    HELM 

don't  want  to  drop  politics  as  a  business,  do 
you?" 

"It's  a  business  or  it's  nothing,"  replied 
Branagan. 

"For  you,"  corrected  Helm. 

"For  all  of  them  that's  in  it — except  here 
and  there  a  crank." 

"Except  here  and  there  a  crank,"  as 
sented  Helm. 

"Republicans  and  Democrats — they  all 
belong  one  way  or  another  to  this  interest 
or  that.  What's  the  use  of  fighting  the 
crowd  that's  got  the  money?  No  use — not 
here  in  this  town — not  up  to  the  State  capi- 
tol,  where  you're  going — not  on  to  Wash 
ington  where  I  reckon  you  calculate  to  go 
some  day.  Not  nowhere,  George!" 

"Not  nowhere,"  said  George.  "It  takes 
two  negatives  to  give  that  affirmative  its 
full  strength." 

"Not  nowhere  on  earth,"  repeated  Brana- 
70 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

gan.  "Fight  the  money  crowd,  and  sooner 
or  later  they'll  get  you  down.  Bluff  at 
fightin'  'em.  They  don't  mind  that.  They 
understand  you've  got  to  keep  in  with  the 
people,  and  they  want  you  to,  so  as  you'll 
be  useful.  But  don't  do  nothing.  Look  at 
any  of  the  big  politicians  that  the  people 
think  so  well  of.  What  have  they  done? 
Nothing.  They've  bluffed — and  talked— 
and  roared.  Maybe  they  cut  off  a  measly 
little  grafter  here  or  there.  But  when  it 
came  to  a  show-down,  they  gave  the  crowd 
with  the  cash  what  they  wanted.  Eh?" 

Helm  nodded. 

"Well — what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I'll  see  when  the  time  comes.  Mean 
time,  what's  my  cue,  Pat?  To  roar— isn't 
it?" 

Branagan  laughed.  "And  you're  the  boy 
that  can  do  it,"  he  cried.  "You  almost 
make  me  believe  you're  in  earnest." 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm  gave  his  politica,  sponsor  a  queer, 
quick  look.  "Almost,"  he  said,  with  a 
laugh.  "That's  good." 

"For  your  age,  Helm,  you've  got  the  best 
nut  on  you  of  any  man  I  know  or  know 
about.  I'll  back  you  to  win.  You'll  be  the 
nominee  for  governor  in  two  years." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Helm. 

"And  as  soon  as  I  settle  things  with 
Reichman  I'll  give  you  all  the  law  business 
you  can  take  care  of — good,  paying  busi 
ness — the  kind  that  won't  hurt  you  with  the 
people." 

"I'll  take  all  of  that  I  can  get,"  said 
Helm.  "I  want  to  make  money.  I've  got 
to  make  money." 

"You've  put  me  in  the  way  of  doing  bet 
ter  than  ever,  my  boy,  and  I'm  not  ungrate 
ful." 

George  winced.  But  he  laughed  and 
said:  "And  don't  forget,  my  usefulness  has 

72 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

only  begun."  He  reflected,  smiled  a  pe 
culiar  secret  smile  as  he  went  on:  'The 
people  allow  the  crowd  that's  robbing  them 
to  pay  big  wages  to  the  politicians  who 
make  the  robbery  possible.  Why  shouldn't 
an  honest  man  take  away  from  the  robbers 
a  big  enough  share  to  keep  him  going  and 
to  put  him  in  a  position  to  serve  the  people 
better?" 

"That's  good  sense,"  said  Branagan 
heartily. 

"It's  practical,"  said  Helm,  staring 
gloomily. 

Branagan  observed  him  with  narrowed 
eyelids  and  cigar  tilted  to  a  high  reflective 
angle.  "You're  a  queer  one,"  he  said,  at 
last.  "I  can't  exactly  place  you." 

From  time  to  time  Helm  had  been  nod 
ding  a  thoughtful  assent.  He  now  said: 

"Last  summer  and  fall   I  got  a  lot  of 
experience,    Branagan.     Ever    since,    I've 
73 


GEORGE    HELM 

been  turning  it  over  in  my  mind.  The  time 
may  come  when  a  man  can  get  where  he 
wants  to  go  by  a  smooth  bee  line  through 
the  air.  But  not  now.  Now  he  has  to 
move  along  the  ground,  and  the  road  isn't 
as  straight  as  it  might  be,  or  as  smooth.  I 
was  all  for  the  bee  line  through  the  air. 
I've  found  out  better."  He  looked  point 
edly  at  his  hard-eyed  companion.  "I 
haven't  changed  my  destination,  Pat.  You 
understand?" 

Branagan  nodded. 

"I've  simply  changed  from  the  heavenly 
route  to  the  human.  And  by  human  I  don't 
mean  crooked." 

"I  understand,  Mr.  Helm,"  said  Brana 
gan,  with  the  respect  a  shrewd  man  cannot 
but  feel  in  presence  of  an  intelligence  that 
has  shown  itself  the  superior  of  his.  "I 
understand  perfectly,  George." 

"You  probably  don't  understand,"  said 
74 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

George.  "But  no  matter.  You  can  be  boss 
of  the  machine,  but  you  can't  be  my  boss. 
If  you  give  me  the  nomination  and  I'm 
elected,  I'll  not  attack  the — the  shortcom 
ings  of  my  friends  until  I've  settled  with 
the  crimes  of  my  enemies.  I'll  not  forget 
that  I  owe  you,  and  not  the  people,  for  the 
nomination.  But  neither  will  I  forget  that 
I  owe  the  people,  and  not  you,  for  the  elec 


tion." 


"That's  the  talk,  Helm!"  said  Branagan, 
with  enthusiasm. 

"Til  accept  your  nomination  if  you  make 
up  a  good  ticket  throughout — one  that 
ought  to  win." 

"I've  got  to  do  that,  George,"  said  the 
boss.  "The  Republicans  outnumber  us 
three  to  one.  Yes,  I'll  give  you  Ai  run 
ning  mates." 

"After  we've  won — you'll  have  to  look 
out  for  yourself,"  pursued  Helm.  "I'll  not 

75 


GEORGE    HELM 

stand  personally  for  any  crookedness.  I 
don't  like  it,  and  I  don't  think  it's  good 
politics." 

"I'll  nominate  you,"  said  Branagan. 
"And  I'll  send  you  a  list  of  the  men  I  pick 
out  to  run  with  you.  I'm  not  a  fool,  Mr. 
Helm.  I  know  we  can't  get  in  unless  we 
make  the  people  believe  we're  sincere — and 
that  we  can't  make  'em  believe  it  unless  we 
put  up  clean  men." 

Helm  smiled.  "Yes — we've  got  to  make 
a  good  strong  bluff  at  decency." 

Branagan  inspected  Helm's  face  with  a 
quick,  eager  glance — a  hopeful  glance. 
Helm  laughed  at  him.  Branagan  colored. 

"I  knew  you  didn't  understand,"  said 
Helm.  "But,  as  I  said  before,  it  doesn't 
matter.  We'll  only  win  the  one  election. 
Then  the  people'll  go  back  to  their  Repub 
lican  rut,  and  in  will  come  Reichman  and 
the  old  gang  again.  You  calculate  that  you 

76 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

can  make  better  terms  with  him  after  you've 
given  him  a  beating.  Now,  don't  you  see 
that  it's  to  your  interest  to  keep  me  decent 
— to  keep  me  a  scarecrow  for  Reichman?" 

Branagan  nodded.  "You  and  me'll  have 
no  trouble,  George.  I'll  let  you  play  your 
game  to  suit  yourself." 

Two  months  later  Helm  reappeared  at 
Harrison,  resumed  the  lodging  at  Mrs. 
Beaver's  and  the  dark  and  dingy  little  back 
office  in  the  Masonic  Temple.  He  was 
dressed  in  new  clothes — a  plain,  cheap  busi 
ness  suit  of  dark  blue,  linen  shirt,  collars 
and  cuffs,  a  straw  hat.  He  thought  himself 
a  stylish,  almost  a  foppish,  person.  In  fact 
he  seemed  hardly  less  unkempt  and  ill  fitted 
than  he  had  in  the  black  frock  suit  and  top 
hat  of  the  previous  year.  Perhaps — but 
only  perhaps — in  the  days  of  the  toga 
George  Helm  might  have  looked  well  in 
clothes;  in  modern  dress  he  could  not  look 

77 


GEORGE    HELM 

well.  The  most  he  could  do  was  to  look 
clean  and  important  and  strong — and  that 
he  certainly  did. 

Reichman  understood,  the  moment  it 
became  known  that  the  young  lawyer  had 
as  clients  four  contracting  companies  in 
which  Pat  Branagan  was  the  silent — and 
sole — partner.  Reichman  was  for  making 
a  fight  at  once.  But  Judge  Powers  and 
Hollister  had  no  fancy  for  a  shower  of  the 
shafts  which  would  glance  harmlessly  from 
the  tough  hide  of  Reichman,  but  would 
penetrate  their  skins  and  fester  in  their 
vanity.  "I'll  take  care  of  Helm,"  said  Hol 
lister.  And  he  sent  his  son  Bart  to  call. 

"Glad  to  see  you  back,"  said  Barton,  a 
dazzling  but  also  an  agreeable  apparition 
in  the  dingy  dimness  of  Helm's  office.  "We 
were  talking  about  you  only  yesterday — I 
and  my  sister  and  Miss  Clearwater.  You 
remember  her?" 

78 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

"Yes — I — I  remember  her,"  said  Helm, 
as  painfully  embarrassed  as  if  Miss  Eleanor 
Clearwater,  the  beautiful,  the  fashionable, 
had  been  there  in  her  own  exquisite  person. 
Remember  her!  Not  a  day  had  passed  that 
he  had  not  lived  again  those  hours  when 
chances  had  thrown  him  into  her  company 
on  terms  of  almost  friendly  intimacy. 

"We  want  you  to  come  to  dinner,"  con 
tinued  Barton,  pretending  not  to  notice  the 
simple,  uncouth,  homely  Helm's  woeful 
confusion.  "To-morrow  night — very  infor 
mal — dressed  as  you  are — really  a  home 
supper." 

"Sorry,  but  I  can't,"  George  blurted  out 
—curt,  rude,  uncouth. 

"Oh — nonsense!"  cried  young  Hollister. 
"You'll  get  along  all  right." 

"I  can't  come,  Mr.  Hollister,"  said 
George,  suddenly  recovering  his  self-pos 
session.  Perhaps  the  fashionable  young 

79 


GEORGE    HELM 

man's  misunderstanding  of  his  diffidence 
may  have  helped.  Helm  went  on  with  the 
natural  dignity  and  grace  that  makes  the 
acquired  sort  look  what  it  is,  "It's  very  kind 
of  your  father  and  Judge  Powers  to  ask  me. 
But  I  can't." 

"I'm  asking  you,"  weakly  blustered  Bar 
ton.  "My  father's  got  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  As  for  Judge  Powers,  I  can't  see  why 
you  drag  him  in." 

The  calm,  honest  look  of  George  Helm's 
deep-set  eyes  was  not  easy  to  bear,  as  he 
explained  without  a  trace  of  anger: 

"I  met  your  sister  and  her  friend  on  the 
street  the  day  after  the  election  last  fall. 
They  made  it  plain  that  they  had  ceased  to 
know  me— 

"But,"  interrupted  Bart,  "that  was  the 
day  after  the  election,  when  everybody  was 
hot  in  the  collar.  We've  all  cooled  down." 

"I've  come  back  here  to  go  into  politics 
80 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

again,"  said  George.  "And  IVe  got  to  say 
and  do  things  that'll  make  you  and  your 
relatives  madder  than  ever 

"What  for?"  cried  Bart.  "I  say,  Helm, 
what's  the  use  of  being  so  devilish  personal 
and  unpleasant?  Why  stir  things  up  and 
make  trouble  for  yourself?  Why  not  join 
our  party  and  jog  along  quietly  and  com 
fortably?" 

Helm  laughed  good-humoredly.  "Let's 
say  it's  because  I  was  born  a  contentious 
cuss  and  can't  change  my  nature.  No,  Hoi- 
lister — you  don't  want  me  at  your  house." 

Hollister  was  convinced.  But  his  father's 
orders  had  been  positive,  had  made  no  pro 
vision  for  failure.  He  persisted  as  best  he 
could:  "You  can't  think  we're  trying  to 
buy  you  with  a  dinner?" 

"I  think  I'm  too  good-natured  not  to  sell 
out  for  a  dinner — and  that  sort  of  thing — 
if  I  put  myself  in  the  way  of  temptation." 

81 


GEORGE    HELM 

"What  rot!  You'll  come?  Nell  Clear- 
water  will  be  terribly  disappointed.  She 
took  quite  a  shine  to  you." 

George  Helm  laughed.  "I  shave  myself, 
Hollister.  I  see  myself  every  morning. 
I'm  not  for  the  ladies,  nor  they  for  me." 

"Oh,  hell!  A  woman  doesn't  care  what 
a  man  looks  like.  They'd  rather  a  man 
wouldn't  be  handsome,  so  he'll  think  about 
them  instead  of  about  himself.  The  way  to 
please  a  woman  is  to  help  her  to  think  of 
nothing  but  herself." 

"I'm  not  a  ladies'  man,"  said  Helm. 

Hollister  argued — not  unskillfully,  be 
cause  he  liked  Helm.  But  George  was  not 
to  be  moved.  He  had  not  set  out  from  the 
depth  of  the  valleys  for  the  heights  without 
so  obvious  a  precaution  as  taking  the  meas 
ure  of  his  weaknesses.  He  knew  that  the 
one  bribe  he  could  not  resist  was  the  social 
bribe — that  his  one  chance  for  success  in  the 

82 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

career  he  had  mapped  out  for  himself  lay 
in  having  no  friends  among  those  he  must 
fight.  And  in  the  nearest  rank  of  them 
were  Hollister,  the  railway  giant  of  the 
State,  and  Judge  Powers,  his  brother-in-law 
and  closest  judicial  agent.  A  day  or  so 
later,  when  he,  walking  up  Main  Street, 
saw  Clara  Hollister  and  Eleanor  Clearwa- 
ter  driving  toward  him  in  a  phaeton,  he 
abruptly  turned  to  inspect  a  window  dis 
play.  He  shivered  and  jumped  ridicu 
lously  when  he  heard  Clara's  voice  at  his 
elbow. 

''You  interested  in  millinery/"  Miss  Hol 
lister  was  saying  laughingly. 

He  noted  with  a  wild  glance  that  he  had 
stopped  before  a  show  window  full  of  wom 
en's  hats.  "How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Powers," 
he  stammered. 

"Hollister,"  she  corrected.  "Judge  Pow 
ers  is  my  uncle." 

83 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm's  confusion  became  a  rout.  "I — I 
beg — your  pardon,"  he  said,  dropping  his 
hat  and  a  law  book  he  was  carrying.  In 
picking  them  up  he  slipped,  and  with 
difficulty  saved  his  long,  loose  frame 
from  sprawling  upon  the  sidewalk.  But 
as  he  straightened  up,  by  one  of  those  sud 
den  inward  revolutions,  he  became  cool 
and  self-possessed.  He  burst  out  laugh 
ing  at  himself — and  when  he  laughed 
his  fine  eyes  and  his  really  splendid  teeth 
made  him  handsome — for  a  homely 
man. 

"Please  talk  to  Nell  Clearwater  while 
I'm  in  here,"  said  Clara,  leaving  him  with 
a  nod  and  a  smile  to  flit  in  at  the  open  door 
of  the  shop. 

Helm  advanced  to  the  curb  where  the 
phaeton  was  drawn  up.  One  glance  at 
Miss  Clearwater's  cold  and  reserved  face 
was  enough  to  convince  him  that  she  was 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

an  unwilling  party  to  Clara  Hollister's  plot. 
He  said,  with  a  simple,  direct  frankness: 

"It  isn't  quite  fair — is  it? — to  blame  me. 
I  certainly  tried  to  avoid  you." 

Their  glances  met.  She  could  not  resist 
the  kindly  humorous  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you  again,"  said  she,  po 
lite,  if  not  cordial.  Her  hand  hesitated, 
moved  to  extend,  settled  itself  again  beside 
the  hand  holding  the  reins.  "You're  back 
to  stay?" 

"Yes."  His  hand  rose  toward  his  hat  for 
the  leave-taking. 

"In  politics?" 

"Yes." 

Her  look  was  coldly  disdainful.  "I  can't 
wish  you  success,"  she  said,  with  a  slight 
nod  of  dismissal. 

"That  is  not  to  your  credit,"  replied  he, 
with  quiet  dignity. 

She  flushed.  "You  know  that  you  your- 
85 


GEORGE    HELM 

self  are  ashamed  of  what  you  are  doing," 
said  she. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"You  were  ashamed  to  come  to  Mr.  Hoi- 
lister's  house." 

"I  had  two  reasons  for  not  going  there," 
said  Helm.  "Neither  of  them  was  shame— 
or  anything  like  it.  Mr.  Hollister  may  be 
ashamed.  He  certainly  is  afraid.  But  I 
am  not.  They  wished  to  bribe  me  to  silence 
by  flattering  me  with  their  friendship.  I 
refused  to  be  bribed.  That  was  one  of  my 
reasons." 

As  he  said  it  in  that  way  of  simple  sin 
cerity  which  made  him  convincing,  both 
in  private  life  and  on  the  platform,  she 
accepted  his  statement  as  the  truth.  "I 
don't  know  much  about  business  and  pol 
itics." 

"But  you  know  enough  to  suspect  I  may 
be  right,"  replied  he. 

86 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

"My  sympathies  are  with  my  own  class," 
said  she,  rather  coldly. 

"And  mine  are,  naturally,  with  my  class," 
said  he. 

There  was  no  ostentation  in  his  reply. 
But  somehow  Nell  Clearwater  felt  not  quite 
so  well  content  with  her  "class" — or  with 
her  claim  to  it.  That  personal  claim  now 
seemed  distinctly  vulgar  in  contrast  with 
his  dignity.  She  said: 

"What  was  your  other  reason  for  not 
coming?" 

He  gazed  directly  at  her.  "Why  should 
I  tell  it  when  you  know  already?" 

Again  she  colored.  "You  are  imperti 
nent,"  said  she  haughtily.  Then  the  color 
flamed,  for  she  instantly  realized  how  she 
had  trapped  herself. 

He  laughed  with  engaging  gentleness. 
"Not  impertinent,"  he  urged.  "Not  pre 
suming,  even.  ...  I  don't  want  you, 

87 


GEORGE    HELM 

Miss  Clearwater.  I  stay  away  simply  be 
cause  I  don't  intend  to  allow  myself  to  want 
you."  Into  his  gray  eyes  came  a  look  that 
no  woman  could  fail  to  understand.  "If  I 
did  want  you—  He  smiled,  and  she 

drew  back  sharply — "If  I  did  want  you,  I'd 
act  very  differently." 

She  forced  a  scornful  laugh.  "Do  you 
think  you  could  possibly  have  any  hope 
with  me?" 

"I  do,"  was  his  firm  reply.  "I  didn't 
until  to-day.  Now  I — know  it." 

"What  vanity!" 

"No.  Not  vanity.  Intuition.  The  fact 
that  you  brought  the  subject  up  and  in 
sisted  on  discussing  it  proves  that  you  have 
thought  about  it  seriously." 

"Really!"  exclaimed  she,  with  angry 
irony.. 

"Really,"  replied  he — and  she  refused  to 
meet  his  gaze.  "Not  as  much  as  I  have, 

88 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

because  you  have  more  of  that  sort  of  things 
in  your  life  than  I  have  in  mine.  No,  not 
nearly  as  much.  But  seriously.  And  be 
cause  you  are  truthful  you  will  not  deny  it." 

She  repeated  the  slight  derisive  laugh. 
She  accompanied  it  with  a  derisive  glance 
that  swept  down  and  up  his  baggy  clothing, 
his  homely  exterior — but  avoided  his  kind, 
gently  smiling  gray  eyes.  He  was  not  de 
ceived.  It  set  his  blood  to  tingling  to  feel 
that  he  could  weave  about  one  person,  this 
one  person,  the  same  spell  with  which  he 
could  bind  the  multitude.  He  went  on: 

"Working  together  at  that  broken  auto 
mobile  we  got  unusually  well  acquainted, 
very  quickly — you  and  I — the  real  you  and 
the  real  I.  ...  I  had  never  before 
met  a  woman  of  your  kind — of  your  class, 
I  suppose  you'd  say.  And  neither  had  you 
ever  met  a  man  of  my  kind." 

"Yes — that  was  it,"  she  said  unsteadily. 
89 


GEORGE    HELM 

"But,  as  I  said  before,  I  do  not  want 
you,"  he  went  on  and,  hearing,  you  would 
have  realized  why  he  had  such  power  as  an 
orator.  "Even  if  I  could  get  you,  I  should 
not  know  what  to  do  with  you.  So — if  we 
ever  talk  together  again,  it  will  not  be 
through  my  seeking." 

He  bowed  with  dignity  and  grace — for, 
whenever  he  was  unconscious  of  himself— 
on  the  platform  or  when  absorbed  in 
earnest  conversation  —  his  awkwardness 
dropped  from  him,  revealing  his  homeli 
ness  as  attractive.  He  went  on  uptown, 
dazed,  wondering  at  himself,  doubting 
whether  he  was  awake.  Had  he  indeed 
seen  Eleanor  Clearwater?  Had  they  said 
to  each  other  the  things  he  was  amazedly 
recalling?  Awe  of  male  externals  of  orna 
mentation  and  pretense  he  had  never  felt. 
But  his  awe  for  fashion  and  manner  in 
women  had  been  deep  and  painful — and 

90 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

reverent.  What  had  become  of  this?  Cer 
tainly  no  other  woman  he  had  known,  or 
for  that  matter  seen,  possessed  the  awe-in 
spiring  qualities  to  such  a  degree  as  this 
woman.  Ever  since  that  night  of  toil  with 
the  automobile  he  had  been  idealizing  and 
worshiping  her  as  the  embodiment  of 
woman,  the  paradise  from  which  he  was 
forever  barred.  Yet,  alone  with  her  for 
the  first  time,  and  in  circumstances  which 
ought  to  have  made  him  speechless,  he  had 
disregarded  her  disdain,  had  smiled  at  her 
scorn,  had  spoken  his  heart  to  her  as  he  had 
never  ventured  to  speak  it  to  himself  in  the 
privacy  and  the  ecstasy  of  his  secret 
dreams!  "I  guess  I  am  a  queer  chap,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "I'm  always  giving  my 
self  surprises.  I  never  know  what  I'll  do 
next." 

It  is  an  excellent  thing  for  a  modest  man 
of  real  merit  to  discover  that  he  has  un- 


GEORGE    HELM 

suspected  resources  of  steady  courage.  It 
was  an  excellent  thing  for  George  Helm. 
From  that  day  he  took  on  a  new  dignity 
and  assurance — created  about  himself  the 
atmosphere  that  inspires  men  to  confidence 
in  their  leaders.  He  changed  the  liking  of 
his  followers  into  that  passionate  loyalty 
which  is  the  great  force  in  the  world  of  ac 
tion.  For  most  men  cannot  reason  and 
judge;  they  must  choose  a  party  and  a 
leader  by  instinct  and  must  trust  themselves 
to  that  party  and  that  leader  implicitly. 
The  story  of  history  is  the  story  of  loy 
alty — and  of  loyalty  betrayed.  The  mass 
has  trusted  and  worshiped  a  class;  the  class 
has  become  infatuated  with  itself,  has  tram 
pled  on  and  betrayed  the  mass. 

George  Helm  had  won,  the  previous  fall, 
because  the  mass  of  the  people  in  that  dis 
trict  had  at  last  become  more  than   sus 
picious  of  the  honesty  and  fidelity  of  their 
92 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

chosen  leaders.  He  had  come  at  just  the 
right  time.  And  he  now  won  again — an 
overwhelming  victory  that  could  not  be 
reversed  by  election  frauds,  with  Branagan 
no  longer  assenting  and  assisting — a  vic 
tory  that  frightened  Reichman  not  only  for 
his  damaged  machine  but  also  for  his  per 
sonal  safety;  for,  a  Democratic  county  pros 
ecutor,  a  subtle  henchman  of  Branagan's, 
had  been  elected  along  with  Helm,  and 
Reichman  knew  that  Judge  Powers  would 
desert  him  the  instant  it  became  to  his  in 
terest  so  to  do. 

"No  wonder,"  replied  Helm,  with  a 
smile.  "I  haven't  any  place  yet.  I'm  try 
ing  to  find  my  place.  ...  If  the 
choice  in,  say,  Lincoln's  day,  had  been  what 
it  is  now — between  serving  a  knave  and 
serving  a  fool — between  serving  a  knave 
that's  owned  by  its  money  and  serving  a 
fool  that's  enslaved  to  the  knave  by  its  folly 

93 


GEORGE    HELM 

— if  Abe  Lincoln  had  had  choice  between 
those  two  rotten  apples,  I  wonder  which  he 
would  have  chosen?" 

"Lincoln  was  a  practical  man,"  said 
Branagan.  "He  had  all  the  cranks  and  ro 
mantic  reformers  down  on  him.  Don't  you 
believe  what  the  histories  say.  I  know  be 
cause  I  lived  then." 

"Yes — he  was  a  practical  man,"  said 
Helm.  "He  must  have  been,  for  he  won." 

"And  I  reckon  you'll  win,  too." 

"Yes,"  said  Helm,  with  a  humorous 
drawl,  "I  reckon  I  will." 

The  excitement  of  boss  over  campaign 
and  victory  is  the  same  in  kind  as  the  ex 
citement  of  humblest,  most  fatuous  parti 
san — though  it  is  vastly  different  in  degree. 
Branagan  had  been  hypnotized  out  of  his 
sordidness — for  the  moment — by  the  issues 
and  by  Helm.  But  even  as  he  arranged 
his  mind  for  talking  business  with  Reich- 
94 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

man  he  returned  to  his  normal  state;  and 
when  he  and  the  Republican  boss  got  to 
gether  for  the  grand  pow-wow  he  was  won 
dering  at  his  own  sentimentality  of  a  few 
'days  before.  The  chief  article  of  the  treaty 
of  peace  was  no  more  George  Helm. 
Branagan  agreed  with  a  qualm  and  a  genu 
ine  regret,  but  he  agreed  as  one  obeying  the 
plain  mandate  of  the  instinct  of  self-preser 
vation. 

"I  wish  to  God  we  could  get  him  out  of 
the  Senate/'  said  Reichman.  "Of  course 
our  boys  in  charge  up  at  the  capital  will  see 
that  he  don't  get  a  chance  to  say  much  or 
to  do  anything.  Still,  I  wish  he  was  back 
in  the  ranks — away  back." 

"Well — he  will  be  in  two  years,"  said 
Branagan.  "And  what's  two  years  in  poli 
tics?" 

"That's      right,"     assented     Reichman. 
"Two  years  isn't  any  time,  anywhere." 
95 


GEORGE    HELM 

"Except  in  jail,"  said  Branagan,  with  a 
loud  laugh. 

Reichman  conceded  only  the  feeblest  of 
smiles  to  this  coarse  jest,  savoring  of  in 
nuendo.  "Those  sort  of  chaps,"  pursued 
he,  "have  to  be  caught  young  and  put  out 
of  business.  I've  attended  to  a  dozen  of 
'em  in  the  last  ten  years." 

"I'd  never  'a  touched  him,"  said  Brana 
gan,  "after  that  first  campaign,  if  I  hadn't 
been  put  in  a  position  where  I  was  forced 
to  do  it." 

"That  was  my  fault,  Pat,  I  admit," 
said  Reichman.  "But  it  won't  occur 
again." 

"I  know  it,  Emil,"  said  Pat.  "We've 
both  had  our  lesson.  ...  I  won't  say 
nothin'  to  Helm.  I'll  keep  him  jollied 
along  until  his  term's  about  up." 

"Then— over  he  drops,"  laughed  Reich 
man. 


THE    CAT'S-PAW 

Branagan  did  not  laugh.  He  liked 
Helm.  But  he  did  nod — and  Branagan's 
nod  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  his  word 
he  had  never  broken. 


97 


Ill 

"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 

MRS.  SALFIELD  and  Mrs.  Ra 
mon,    leaders    in    Cincinnati's 
fashionable  society,  were  dis 
posed   in    a    comfortable   corner   of    Mrs. 
Salfield's  ballroom.     They  were  sheltered 
from       rheumatism-provoking      draughts. 
They  were  at  conversational  range  from  the 
music.     They  commanded  a  full  view  of 
the  beautiful  ball,  even  of  the  supper  room, 
where  a  dozen  men  were  "mopping  up  the 
champagne  instead  of  doing  their  dancing 
duty,"  as  Mrs.  Ramon  put  it.     Mrs.  Ra 
mon,  posing  as  of  the  younger  generation, 
went    in — somewhat    awkwardly — for    the 
"picturesque9'  in  language.     Mrs.  Salfield, 
98 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 
frankly  an  old  woman,  tolerated  slang  as 
she  tolerated  rowdy  modern  manners  and 
"disgraceful,  not  to  say  indecent  exposure" 
in  ball  dresses";  but  in  her  own  person  she 
adhered  to  the  old  fashions  of  moderately 
low  dresses  and  moderately  incorrect  Eng 
lish.  Said  Mrs.  Ramon: 

"There  goes  that  charming  grandniece 
of  yours.  How  graceful  she  is.  I  thought 
you  told  me  she  was  twenty-nine." 

"Eleanor  Clearwater — twenty-nine!"  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Salfield.  "She's  not  yet 
twenty-four." 

"Oh,  I  remember,  you  said  she  looked 
twenty-nine  —  so  serious  —  dignified  -  -  re 
served — really  icy.  But  that  was  only  two 
months  ago.  She  looks  eighteen  now.  She's 
been  away — hasn't  she?" 

"Just  returned,"  said  Mrs.  Salfield. 

"It  did  her  a  world  of  good — freshened 
Up — n0j  softened — no,  I  mean  warmed." 
99 


THE  STORY  OF  GEORGE  HELM 

"She's  been  visiting  the  Hollisters,  down 
at  Harrison." 

"A  country  town.  I  supposed  she'd  been 
to  baths  or  springs  or  something.  Really 
the  change  in  her  is  quite  miraculous.  She 
has  waked  up." 

"Eleanor  never  was  what  one'd  call 
sleepy,"  said  Mrs.  Salfield,  rather  stiffly. 

"Oh,  she  was  always  interested  in  things 
•• — books,  serious  subjects — too  much  so  for 
my  taste.  But  you  know  what  I  mean. 
She  looks  human — looks  as  if  she  had  a 
human  interest.  It  was  the  one  thing 
lacking  to  make  her  entirely  interest 
ing  and  beautiful — to  give  her  magne 
tism.  You  notice  how  the  men  flock  about 
her.  She's  having  a  triumph.  Why,  she 
looks  round — looks  at  the  men — in  a  posi 
tively  flirtatious  way.  Really,  Clara,  it's 
too  wonderful.  What  has  happened  to 
her?" 

100 


"THERE    GOES    A    MAN" 

"What  could  happen  to  a  girl  in  Har 
rison?  Nothing  but  Bart  Hollister." 

"It  couldn't  be  Bart,"  said  Mrs.  Ramon. 

"It  isn't  anybody,"  said  Mrs.  Salfield. 
"It's  simply  a  case  of  coming-to  a  little  late. 
So  many  young  people  take  life  too  sol 
emnly  at  first.  They  feel  responsible  for 


it." 


The  phenomenon  thus  noted  by  Mrs. 
Ramon  had  escaped  no  one's  eyes.  Even 
Eleanor's  father,  the  absorbed  George 
Clearwater,  United  States  Senator  and 
"lumber  king,"  had  seen  it.  Eleanor  Clear- 
water  had  gone  to  Harrison,  a  reserved, 
cool,  not  to  say  cold  young  woman,  with  an 
air  that  made  her  seem  years  older  than 
she  was,  and  with  an  interest  in  men  so 
faint  that  it  discouraged  all  but  two  daunt 
less  fortune  hunters — who  were  promptly 
sent  to  look  further.  She  had  come  back,  a 
lively,  coquettish  person,  with  a  modern 
101 


GEORGE    HELM 

tendency  to  audacities  in  dress  and  speech. 
Every  one  wondered;  no  one  could  explain. 
She  could  have  explained,  but  she  would 
not  have  admitted  the  truth  even  to  her 
self.  Four  men  proposed  within  two  weeks 
after  her  return.  She  refused  them  all— in 
a  gay,  mocking  way,  thus  enabling  them  to 
feel  that  they  had  not  humiliated  them 
selves,  that  she  had  imagined  they  were 
proposing  merely  to  make  interesting  con 
versation. 

The  cause  she  would  not  admit?  A  lank, 
homely,  ill  dressed  country  town  lawyer, 
one  George  Helm.  The  year  before  he  had 
been  the  joke  of  Harrison  because  of  his 
absurd  beard  and  his  seedy  suit  with  its 
flowing  tails.  The  shaving  of  the  beard, 
the  changing  of  the  "statesman's  frock"  for 
an  ill  fitting  sack  suit,  two  campaigns  in 
which  he  had  developed  power  and  origi 
nality  as  a  speaker,  an  election  to  the  State 
102 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

Senate  by  attacking  "everything  that  was 
respectable  and  decent,"  that  is,  by  telling 
the  truth  about  the  upper-class  grafters — 
these  circumstances  had  combined  to  make 
him  a  considerable  and  serious  figure  in 
Harrison.  But  for  such  as  the  Hollisters 
and  the  Clearwaters  he  remained  a  bump 
kin,  a  demagogue,  an  impossible  lower- 
class  person. 

Yet  he  had  wrought  the  wondrous,  pro 
posal-fraught  change  in  Miss  Clearwater. 
And  he  had  done  it  by  impudently  pausing 
at  her  phaeton  in  Harrison's  main  street 
and  telling  her,  with  exasperating  indiffer 
ence  to  her  icy  manner,  that  he  could  marry 
her  if  he  wished  but  that  he  had  no  place 
in  his  life  for  such  a  person  as  she. 

Why  had  this  transformed  her?    For  two 

reasons,  both  important  to  those  men  who 

would   fain   have   influence   over   one — or 

more — of  the  female  sex.    The  first  is,  that 

103 


GEORGE    HELM 

he  had  been  able  to  impress  upon  her  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  worth-while  person.  The 
second  is,  that  he,  being  serious  and  simple, 
had  shown  her  that  he,  the  man  worth 
while,  meant  it  when  he  said  she  was  not  a 
girl  a  worth-while  man  would  care  to 
marry.  With  these  two  propositions  firmly 
fixed  in  her  head,  Eleanor  Clearwater  could 
not  fail  to  see  that  it  was  "up  to"  her  to 
demonstrate  her  power  over  man. 

She  invited  proposals — proposals  not  too 
obviously  incited  chiefly  by  her  charms  as 
an  heiress.  She  got  the  proposals.  But 
still  she  was  not  satisfied.  There  was  one 
man — a  homely  man,  but  a  man  with  far 
and  away  the  handsomest  soul  she  had  ever 
seen — simple,  proud,  honest  and  fearless — 
looking  from  eyes  that  were  the  more  beau 
tiful  for  the  rugged  homeliness  of  the  rest 
of  his  face.  This  man  whom  her  wom 
an's  heart  defiantly  told  her  was  supremely 
104 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

worth  while — this  man  had  said  she  was 
not  worth  while.  Therefore,  there  were 
worlds  still  defiantly  unconquered — which 
meant  that  nothing  was  conquered.  It  irri 
tated  her — as  her  father  had  been  irritated 
until  all  the  lumber  interests  had  been  gath 
ered  in  under  his  lordship.  It  irritated 
her  yet  more  profoundly  that  such  an  ab 
surdity  as  this  gentle  and  friendly  disdain 
of  bucolic  homeliness  should  irritate  her. 
But  she  could  not  change  her  nature. 

He  had  set  her  to  thinking  about  him. 
He  had  her  worried,  as  the  saying  is.  And 
when  a  man  gets  a  woman  in  that  state,  she 
will  not  emerge  from  it  until  something 
definite  has  occurred. 

Woman  has  little  to  think  about  but  men 
—thanks  to  a  social  system  cunningly  con 
trived  by  man  for  his  own  benefit.     She 
thinks  of  man  in  general  until  she  centers 
upon  one  man.     She  then  thinks  of  him 
105 


GEORGE    HELM 

until  she  finds  him  out.  When  that  comes 
to  pass,  she  goes  back  to  men  in  general, 
until  a  new  personal  interest  develops. 
This,  so  long  as  any  remnant  of  charm  gives 
her  hope.  Man  is  woman's  career.  Not  so 
with  men;  not  so  with  George  Helm,  State 
Senator  elect  and  desperately  in  earnest 
about  making  a  career. 

While  Eleanor  Clearwater  was  sleeping 
away  the  excitements  of  the  Salfield  ball  in 
her  attractive  bedroom  in  the  Clearwater 
palace,  George  Helm  was  at  work  several 
hundred  miles  away  in  his  dingy  back  office 
in  the  Masonic  Building  at  Harrison. 
When  she  should  be  awakened  by  her  maid 
to  dress  for  her  first  engagement  of  the  day, 
she  would  soon  be  thinking  of  George 
Helm — thinking  how  ugly  and  obscure  and 
ungainly  he  was — and  what  magnetic  eyes 
he  had.  Thinking  the  more,  the  more  she 
106 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

tried  not  to  think.    But  George  Helm  was 
not  thinking  of  her  at  all. 

He  was  sitting  beside  the  rickety  old 
table  in  a  wooden  chair,  a  kitchen  chair.  It 
was  tilted  back  and  Helm's  long  lank  legs 
were  tangled  up  with  each  other  and  with 
the  rungs  in  amazing  twists.  Perhaps  you 
have  happened  to  know  an  occasional  man 
—or  woman — whose  every  act  and  trick  of 
manner  had  an  inexplicable  fascination. 
When  George  Helm  was  self-conscious,  he 
had  no  more  magnetism  than  is  inseparable 
from  intelligent,  sympathetic  good  nature 
sunning  in  a  kindly  keen  sense  of  humor. 
But  the  instant  he  lost  self-consciousness— 
as  he  always  did  on  the  platform,  and  as  he 
was  more  and  more  doing  in  private  life, 
now  that  he  had  begun  to  have  success — 
that  instant  he  became  a  magnet,  one  of 
those  human  magnets  who  interest  you,  no 
matter  what  they  do,  and  in  repose.  Even 
107 


GEORGE    HELM 

in  bed — that  too  short,  sagging  bed  in  the 
attic  of  Mrs.  Beaver's  boarding  house — 
even  as  he  lay  doubled  up,  there  was  the 
fascination  of  the  unique,  the  perfectly  nat 
ural  and  unassuming. 

As  he  sat  twisted  in  and  upon  the  wobbly 
kitchen  chair,  his  friend,  lazy  Bill  Des- 
brough,  from  across  the  hall,  looked  in 
every  few  minutes,  hoping  George  would 
encourage  him  to  enter.  It  was  curious 
about  George  Helm,  how  in  spite  of  his 
lack  of  what  passes  for  dignity,  no  one  ever 
—even  in  the  days  when  he  was  thought  to 
be  a  joke — "the  boy  with  that  beard" — no 
one  ever  ventured  to  interrupt  him  without 
an  encouraging  look  from  those  deep-set 
blue-gray  eyes. 

At  last  George  looked  up  and  smiled  as 
Bill  stood  in  the  doorway.    He  said: 

"Come  in,  you  loafer." 

"How's    State    Senator-elect    Helm    to- 
108 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 
day?"  inquired  Bill,  lounging  in,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  his  pipe  hanging  from  the 
corner  of  his  mouth.    "How  does  it  feel  to 
be  famous?" 

"To  be  less  obscure,"  corrected  George. 
He  had  a  passion— and  a  genius— for  ac 
curacy. 

"To  be  famous,"  insisted  Desbrough. 
"Do  you  know  who  is  State  Senator  for 
the  district  adjoining  this— on  either  side? 
— or  to  the  north  or  south?" 

Bill  Desbrough's  laugh  was  confession. 
"There  are  fifty   State   Senators  in  this 
State  alone,"   continued  George.     "There 
are  forty-eight  States  in  the  Union.     Fifty 
times  forty-eight— 

"Why  are  you  trying  to  make  yourself 
out  so  small?" 

«Or — to  look  at  it  another  way,  I  belong 
to  the  Democratic  boss  of  Harrison — Pat 
Branagan,  saloon-keeper.     He  belongs   to 
109 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  Republican  boss,  Al  Reichman.  Al 
belongs  to  Senator  Harvey  Sayler,  the  State 
boss.  Sayler  belongs  to  the  big  monopo 
listic  combines  that  center  in  Wall  Street. 
They  belong  to  a  dozen  big  plutocrats  who 
belong  to  about  three  of  their  number.  And 
those  three  belong  to  their  money — do 
what  it  says,  say  and  think  what  it  tells  'em 
to." 

"I  hope  you're  happy  now,"  said  Bill. 
"You've  made  yourself  out  to  be  about 
equal  to  a  patch  on  the  ragged  pant-leg  of 
some  cotton-picking  coon  working  for  the 
sub-lessee  of  a  mortgaged  farm  in  a  poor 
corner  of  Arkansas." 

"Or,  to  look  at  it  another  way,"  con 
tinued  Helm,  untwisting  his  legs,  immedi 
ately  to  re-knot  them  in  an  even  more  in 
tricate  tangle,  "a  State  Senator  gets  six  dol 
lars  a  day  while  the  Legislature's  in  session. 
It  meets  for  sixty  days  every  two  years, 
no 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

His  term's  four  years.  So,  my  money  value 
as  the  State  sees  it  is  one  hundred  and 
eighty  dollars  a  year — about  fifty  cents 
a  day." 

"Well,  I  hope  youVe  shrunk  yourself 
back  to  normal  human  size,"  said  his  friend. 
"I  suppose  that's  what  you're  doing  this 
for." 

"No,  Bill.    To  locate  myself.    I  want  to 
see  just  where  I  stand.    The  slave  of  a  slave 
of  a  slave  of  a  slave  of  a  slave  of  a  slave  of 
a  slave — I  think  that's  the  right  degree— 
and  at  fifty  cents  a  day." 

"Branagan  gives  you  some  pretty  good 
law  cases,"  suggested  Bill. 

Helm  eyed  him  somberly. 

"You  know  you  don't  want  to  be  too  damn 
independent,  old  man,"  continued  Bill. 

"To  locate  myself,"  pursued  Helm,  as  if 
Bill  had  not  spoken.     "I  want  to  see  just 
how  far  I've  got  to  go  before— 
i  ii 


GEORGE    HELM 

He  paused  here.  Said  Bill — not  alto 
gether  in  jest,  "Before  you're  President  of 
theU.  S.  A.?" 

"No,"  said  George  gravely.  "Before  I'm 
a  man.  Before  I  belong  to  myself."  He 
laughed  with  his  peculiar  illumination  of 
the  whole  face  apparently  from  the  light 
of  the  eyes.  "You  see,  Bill,  I'm  aiming  to 
go  further  than  most  Presidents — especially 
these  latter-day  chaps." 

"Further  than  most  plutocrats,"  said 
Desbrough.  "As  you  said,  they  belong  to 
their  boodle  bags.  .  .  .  You  haven't 
broken  with  Branagan?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  Helm.  "I'll  have  to, 
soon  after  the  Legislature  opens.  You  see, 
we're  the  minority,  and  nowadays  the  ma 
jority-boss  always  uses  the  minority  votes 
to  put  through  whatever  dirty  business  a 
lot  of  his  men  have  to  be  let  off  from  vot 
ing  for." 

112 


"THERE    GOES    A    MAN" 

"Well — don't  break  with  good  old  Pat 
till  you  have  to." 

"I'll  get  all  I  can  first,  you  may  be  sure," 
said  Helm.  "I'm  a  practical  man — that  is, 
I'm  a  practical  politician,  with  a  dangerous, 
incurable  hankering  for  being  a  man— self- 
owned  and  self-bossed." 

"You  give  Branagan  good  legal  service 
for  what  he  pays  you." 

"And  he  hasn't  yet  asked  me  to  do  any 
law  work  that  I've  not  been  able  to  stand 
for." 

"Pat's  a  little  afraid  of  you,"  declared 
Desbrough.  "He  knows  how  strong  you 
are  with  the  people." 

Helm  slowly  shook  his  head.  "I  don't 
deceive  myself.  He's  saving  me  till  he 
really  needs  me."  He  straightened  out  his 
long  figure  deliberately,  rose  and  began  to 
pace  up  and  down  the  office.  "It's  all  a 
question  of  money,  Bill.  In  this  day  a  man 


GEORGE    HELM 

has  got  to  have  an  independence — or  do 
what  some  other  man  says." 

"If  I  could  speak  as  you  can — and  hold 
the  crowds — and  draw  in  their  votes— 
You,  a  Democrat,  elected  from  this  district 
of  shell-back  Republicans  who  talk  about 
the  Civil  War  as  if  Morgan  was  still 
raiding  the  State."  Bill  laughed.  "Why 
don't  you  drop  politics,  George?  Why 
fool  with  the  silly  game?  The  people'll 
never  learn  anything.  They  can  always  be 
buncoed — the  asses!  What  did  God  make 
'em  for?  To  work  like  hell  all  day  and 
then  hand  over  most  of  what  they've  made 
to  some  clever  chap — and  thank  him  for 
taking  it." 

"That  used  to  be  so,"  replied  Helm. 
"But  they're  waking  up,  Bill.  All  they  need 
is  the  right  kind  of  leaders." 

"Meaning  you?" 

"Meaning  me,"  said  Helm.    And  his  ex- 
114 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

pression  far  removed  his  statement  from 
vanity  or  egotism. 

Desbrough  puffed  at  his  pipe  in  silence. 
Presently  he  said: 

"You  can  count  me  in,  George — if  there's 
anything  I  can  do." 

They  did  not  shake  hands.  They  ex 
changed  no  gushing  remarks.  They  did  not 
look  at  each  other  with  exalted  sentimen 
tality.  They  simply  looked — then  George 
grinned  and  nodded — and  said: 

"All  right,  Bill.    You're  in." 

A  long  silence.    Then  Desbrough: 

"Not  that  I  believe  in  the  game,  old  man. 
I  don't.  I  despise  the  people.  I'd  go  in 
with  the  wise  boys  who  rob  them  if  I  didn't 
happen  to  have  inherited  enough  to  slop 
along  on." 

"How  much  have  you  got?"  said  George 
— a  necessary  question,  as  this  was  to  be  a 
partnership. 


GEORGE    HELM 

"Nineteen  hundred  and  fifty  a  year — • 
county  bonds  and  a  farm.  My  law  prac 
tice — I  made  seventy-five  dollars  last  year." 

"You  won't  take  anything  but  people 
too  poor  to  pay — and  then  only  when  you 
think  they're  being  wronged  by  somebody 
with  money.  That's  why  I  asked  you  in." 

"You  didn't—  Desbrough  stopped 

and  laughed.  "Yes,  you  did,  come  to  think 
of  it.  I'd  never  have  offered  if  you  hadn't 
made  me  feel  that  you  wanted  me.  I'd  not 
have  done  it  even  then,  if  you  hadn't  com 
pelled  me.  How  do  you  compel  people 
to  do  things  without  even  asking  'em, 
George?" 

For  reply  Helm  laughed.    Said  he: 

"Nineteen  hundred  and  fifty  a  year. 
That's  enough  for  you.  I  must  have  more 
« — about  five  thousand  a  year." 

"You  can  make  it  at  the  law." 

"If  the  gang  didn't  shut  me  out  of  the 
116 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

courts,  when  I  broke  with  them.  And  if 
I'd  take  crooked  cases.  I've  thought  that 
all  out.  It  can't  be  done  any  more.  Lin 
coln  and  the  big  fellows  of  the  past  could. 
But  that  was  a  different  day.  Now  all  the 
law  cases  worth  while — all  the  good  fees- 
come  from  the  very  chaps  I've  got  to  at 
tack.  A  lawyer  who  has  done  any  business 
as  a  lawyer  can  go  into  politics  in  only  one 
way — and  that's  a  more  or  less  crooked  way. 
I've  thought  it  all  out,  Bill.  I  can't  afford 
to  make  an  independence,  and  then  wash 
up  and  go  in  on  the  level.  I  hoped  I 
could  see  my  way  clear  to  do  it.  But — I 


can't." 


"But  you  won't  get  money  any  other 
way,"  said  Desbrough.  "And  if  you 
haven't  got  the  money  to  live  on  and  to 
carry  on  your  campaigns,  why,  you're 
beaten  in  advance." 

"I  haven't  forgotten  my  campaign  for 
117 


GEORGE    HELM 

judge,"  said  Helm.  "Bill,  I've  learned  a 
thing  or  two  about  practical  politics.  I'm 
going  to  play  cards — not  play  the  fool." 

"Why  not  marry  Clara  Hollister?"  cried 
Desbrough,  suddenly  inspired. 

"Would  she  have  you?"  asked  Helm. 

"Me?  Good  Lord,  what'd  I  do  with 
another  wife?  I  had  one,  and  am  paying 
alimony.  No,  I  mean  you  marry  Clara." 

Helm  laughed  uproariously.  "Take  an 
other  look  at  me,  Bill,"  said  he.  "You've 
forgotten." 

"Women  don't  know  anything  about 
handsome  and  ugly  in  men,"  said  Bill. 
"Besides,  you're  not  what  women 'd  call 
plain.  Don't  laugh,  George.  I'd  back  you 
to  win  any  woman  you  took  after.  A  man 
that  can  catch  crowds  can  catch  a  woman. 
With  a  woman,  it  isn't  what  a  man  looks. 
It's  what  he  says — and  does." 

"I've  got  no  woman-talk,"  said  Helm. 
118 


''THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 
"You  can  grab  off  Clara  Hollister  if  you 
want  her — and  she  has  twenty  thousand  a 
year  in  her  own  right.    And  she'll  let  you 
do  what  you  please  with  it." 

"Her  father's   the  head   devil  in   these 
parts  of  the  gang  I'm  after." 

"The  twenty  thousand's  hers.      She's   a 
good  deal  of  a  snob,  but  she'd  be  what  you 
wanted    her   to    be,    if   you   married    her. 
That's  the  way  it  is  with  women." 
"Was  that  your  experience?" 
"I  spoke  from  experience,"  replied  Des- 
brough,  undaunted.    "I  made  my  wife  over 
when  I  married  her— and  then  didn't  like 
the  job.     I'd  rather  pay  alimony  than  be 
constantly  reminded  of  my  failure." 

"No— I  can't  marry  for  independence," 
said  Helm.  "She  wouldn't  have  me  and— 
I  don't  want  her." 

"Then— why  not  that  friend  of  hers— 
that  Miss  Clearwater?     I  saw  you  talking 
119 


GEORGE    HELM 

to  her  down  the  street  one  day  before  the 
election.  She'd  be  less  easy  to  manage  than 
Clara.  But  no  woman's  difficult — for  a 
firm  man  who's  patient  and  can  keep  his 
temper — and  isn't  in  love." 

Helm  had  become  acutely  self-conscious 
and  so  awkward  that  a  chair  which  was  ap 
parently  not  near  his  path  became  involved 
with  his  big  feet  and  fell  on  its  side  with  a 
crash.  As  Helm  straightened  from  picking 
it  up,  he  was  extraordinarily  red  for  the 
amount  of  exertion.  Said  he: 

"Leave  the  women  out  of  it.  I'm  not  a 
marrying  man." 

Desbrough  laughed  mockingly.  "You'll 
find  out  you're  mistaken — as  soon  as  you've 
got  money  enough  to  make  it  worth  a  needy 
woman's  while  to  take  after  you.  /  thought 
/  wasn't  a  marrying  man.  Three  months 
and  four  days  after  my  uncle  died  and  left 
me  that  money  I  was  waiting  at  the  altar." 
120 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

"I'm  not  a  marrying  man,"  repeated 
Helm  awkwardly. 

uln  some  ways  Miss  Clearwater  would 
be  just  the  girl  for  you.  She'd  take  an  in 
terest  in  your  career.  She  has  ideals — and 
they're  about  as  far  removed  from  her 
father's  as  a  church  from  a  speak-easy.  I 
think  she's  got  money  of  her  own.  Yes,  I'm 
sure  she  has.  Her  mother  left  her  what  the 
old  man  had  settled  on  her." 

"If  I  did  marry,"  said  Helm,  abruptly 
self-possessed,  "it'd  be  a  woman  that  suited 
me — one  I  felt  at  home  with.  I  want  no 
grand  rich  ladies,  Bill.  Anyhow,  I've 
thought  of  another  way — one  that's  prac 
tical." 

And  he  seated  himself  and  proceeded  to 
unfold  the  scheme  upon  which  he  had  been 
seriously  at  work  ever  since  the  election. 
It  was  a  simple  scheme,  wisely  devoid  of 
untried  originality,  but  effective.  His  two 
121 


GEORGE    HELM 

campaigns,  despite  the  silence  of  the  plutoc 
racy-controlled  press,  had  got  him  a  con 
siderable  reputation  throughout  the  State. 
The  press  is  not  so  necessary  to  the  spread 
of  intelligence  as  is  latterly  imagined.  Long 
before  there  was  a  press,  long  before  there 
was  any  written  means  of  communication, 
news  and  knowledge  of  all  kinds  spread 
rapidly  throughout  the  world,  pausing  only 
at  the  great  desert  stretches  between  peo 
ples — and  not  often  halted  there  for  long. 
The  old  ways  of  communication  have  not 
been  closed  up.  To  this  day  the  real  and 
great  reputations  of  the  world  are  not 
press-made  or  press-sustained  or  even  mate 
rially  press-assisted.  They  are  the  work 
of  mouth-to-mouth  communication.  And 
those  reputations,  by  the  way,  are  they 
against  which  the  calumny  and  the  innu 
endo  of  the  press  strive  in  vain. 

It  had  spread  from  man  to  man  through- 
122 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

out  the  State  that  there  had  arisen  in  Har 
rison  a  strange,  plain  youth  of  great  sin 
cerity  as  a  man  and  of  great  power  as  a 
speaker.  The  Jews  of  ancient  days  are  not 
the  only  people  who  have  dreamed  of  a 
Messiah.  The  Messiah-dream,  the  Mes 
siah-longing  has  been  the  dream  and  the 
longing  of  the  whole  human  race,  toiling 
away  in  obscurity,  oppressed,  exploited, 
fooled,  despised.  Hence,  news  of  leaders 
springing  up  spreads  fast  and  far  among 
the  people.  The  news  about  Helm  was 
hardly  more  than  a  rumor.  A  hundred 
miles  from  Harrison,  and  they  had  his  name 
wrong.  A  little  further,  and  they  hadn't 
yet  heard  his  name.  But  far  and  wide  there 
was  the  rumor  of  a  light  in  the  direction  of 
Harrison.  Would  it  be  a  little  star  or  a 
big?  a  fixed  star  or  a  mere  comet? — would 
it  prove  to  be  nothing  but  a  meteorite,  flash 
ing  and  fading  out?  Would  it  be  a  sun? 
123 


GEORGE    HELM 

These  questions  not  definite,  but  simply  the 
vague,  faint  suggestion  of  question. 

The  people! — how  little  we  understand 
them — how  much  and  how  often  we  mis 
understand  them.  The  people,  so  ignorant, 
yet  so  quaintly  wise — as  they  toil  in  the  ob 
scurity,  building  patiently,  working  and 
hoping — and  waiting  always  for  leaders. 
Deceived  a  thousand  times,  they  wait  on 
and  hope  on — since  leaders  they  must  have, 
and  since  leaders  will  surely  come. 

Helm  did  not  exaggerate  the  public  inter 
est  in  himself.  If  anything  he,  the  most 
cautiously  Caledonian  of  career-builders, 
estimated  his  reputation  at  less  than  it  was. 
But  he  had  the  true  man  of  the  people's  in 
stinct  for  the  feeling  of  the  people.  His 
crusading  spirit  was  not  either  academic  or 
fanatic.  It  was  the  sensible  indignation  of 
the  man  who  discovers  that  a  certain  evil 
has  gone  far  enough  and  must  be  put  down, 
124 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

He  felt  that,  if  he  could  manage  his  career 
sensibly,  he  could  make  it  all  he  wished. 
The  pressing  problem  was  how  to  increase 
this  reputation  into  fame  of  the  kind  useful 
to  his  purposes  as  a  public  man,  and  how  to 
transform  that  increased  reputation  into  a 
cleanly-acquired  independence. 

"And  it  seems  to  me,  Bill,"  said  he,  "that 
the  best  available  plan  is  a  lecture  tour- 
through  the  towns,  villages,  crossroads  ham 
lets  of  the  whole  State." 

"Talking  politics?  Nobody'll  listen  to 
politics  except  round  election  time.  That's 
why  robbing  the  people's  the  easiest  and  the 
favorite  way  to  make  money." 

"Everything's  politics,"  said  Helm. 
"Religion's  politics,  and  education's  poli 
tics,  and  farming  and  mining  and  factories 
and  doctors  and  storekeeping — everything! 
What's  politics  but  settling  how  the  pro 
ceeds  of  everybody's  labor  are  to  be  dis- 
125 


GEORGE    HELM 

tributed — whether  the  man  who  works  is  to 
get  what  he  works  for  or  somebody  else  is 
to  get  it?  And  that  question  means  every 
thing  that  affects  any  human  being, 
morally,  mentally,  physically.  I'm  go 
ing  to  talk  politics,  but  they'll  not 
know  it." 

" Where  do  7  come  in?" 
"You're  to  be  my  manager — arrange  the 
dates  and  so  on.  It's  got  to  be  arranged 
while  I'm  busy  in  the  Legislature,  in  Jan 
uary  and  February.  I'll  do  what  I  can 
there  to  make  myself  talked  about.  You'll 
correspond  with  culture  clubs  and  literary 
circles  and  churches  that  want  debts  raised 
and  public  schools  and  trade  schools  with 
lecture  courses." 

Desbrough  looked  willing  but  helpless. 
"Is  there  much  chance  to  lecture  in  this 
State?"  said  he.  "I  thought  that  sort  of 
thing  had  died  out." 

126 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

"If  it  had,  we'd  raise  it  from  the  dead," 
said  Helm.  "But  it  hasn't." 

He  took  from  the  drawer  of  his  table  a 
bundle  of  papers.  He  waved  them  trium 
phantly  at  his  friend,  saying: 

"Here  it  is,  Bill — all  down  in  black  and 
white.  A  hundred  and  eighty-six  chances 
to  lecture — if  it's  worked  right." 

Desbrough,  the  lazy  man,  groaned. 
"Why  didn't  you  pick  out  somebody  else, 
damn  you!"  he  cried. 

"You  offered,"  said  Helm. 

"You  hypnotized  me,"  retorted  Des 
brough.  "Lord,  what  a  pile  of  work!" 

"Yes,"  said  Helm.  "You'll  have  to  begin 
right  away.  I  calculate  to  make  twenty- 
five  hundred  dollars  by  the  first  of  June.  I 
want  to  build  this  thing  up  in  a  couple  of 
years  into  a  steady  income  of  five  to  ten 
thousand — an  income  nobody  can  touch  so 
long  as  people'll  come  out  to  hear  me."  The 
127 


GEORGE    HELM 

handsome  blue-gray  eyes  looked  anxiously 
from  the  homely  face.  "Bill,  am  I  deceiv 
ing  myself?  Do  you  think  they'll  pay  to 
hear  me?" 

"You  can't  expect  'em  to  pay  much — at 
first." 

"I  was  thinking  it'd  be  about  right  to  ask 
ten  dollars  for  the  little  places,  and  fifteen 
to  thirty  for  the  bigger  ones." 

"I'll  have  to  feel  that  out,"  said  Bill. 
"Leave  something  for  the  manager  to 
do." 

"Put  the  prices  low,  Bill,"  said  George. 
"It's  safer.  Also,  we  want  to  reach  all  the 
people.  And  I'm  going  to  write  some  lec 
tures  that'll  educate  'em  in  what's  going  on 
under  their  noses.  About  these  lectures — 
they're  to  be  a  mixture  of  humorous  and 
serious.  I've  got  a  lot  of  good  stories  I  can 
work  in.  The  first  lecture's  pretty  nearly 
ready." 

128 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

"What's  it  about?" 

"The  American  Home — as  it  was — as  it 
is — as  it  should  be." 

"Wit,  wisdom  and  weeps?" 

Helm  nodded. 

"That  sounds  good.  I  begin  to  feel  that 
there's  something  in  it.  ...  Look 
here,  Helm — that  tour's  going  to  be  a 
frightful  strain  on  your  health." 

George  looked  down  at  his  long  lean  fig 
ure  in  the  baggy  blue  suit.  "There  isn't 
anything  about  me  to  get  sick,  Bill,"  said 
he.  "Back  where  I  come  from  they  dry 
'em  out  like  an  oak  board  before  they  send 
'em  away  from  home.  All  the  germs  get 
when  they  tackle  us  folks  is  broken  teeth." 

Why  does  the  world  insist  on  believing 

that  luck  is  the  deciding  factor  in  human 

affairs?    Why  is  the  successful  man  forced 

to  pretend  that  he  is  "fortune's  favorite," 

129 


GEORGE    HELM 

under  penalty  of  being  despised  as  a  plod 
ding  or  scheming  fellow,  if  he  does  not? 
Because  most  men  either  cannot  or  will  not 
plan.  They  "trust  to  luck" — and  lose, 
except  in  romances  and  equally  fictitious 
biographies.  Without  exception,  all  success 
is  the  result  of  plan.  If  a  man  has  success 
thrust  into  his  hands,  it  is  immediately 
snatched  away  unless  he  plans  wisely  to 
keep  it.  If  a  successful  man  is  wholly  or 
partly  ruined  by  chance,  his  habit  of  suc 
cessful  planning  soon  restores  all  that  has 
been  lost.  Luck  is  an  element  for  which 
every  wise  man  makes  allowance  in  his 
planning — for  the  good  luck  that  will  en 
able  him  to  shorten  his  journey  along  the 
road  he  would  have  traveled  in  any  event, 
for  the  bad  luck  that  may  lengthen  the 
journey.  Good  and  bad  luck  affect  rate, 
not  direction — among  the  men  who  attain 
to  and  persist  in  the  triumphant  class,  from 
130 


"THERE    GOES    A    MAN" 

the  successful  grocer  to  the  successful  poet 
or  composer. 

That  winter  luck  favored  George  Helm. 
He  did  not  have  to  break  with  the  machine. 

Senator  Sayler,  the  representative  of  the 
plutocracy,  quarreled  with  some  of  his 
largest  clients — his  bosses,  they  fancied 
themselves,  until  he,  as  astute  as  he  was 
bold  and  cynical,  showed  them  that  he  had 
made  himself  indispensable  to  them.  He, 
the  rich  man  as  well  as  the  expert  and  most 
intelligent  politician;  they,  merely  rich 
men,  crudely  buying  of  politicians  the  cov 
eted  robbers'  licenses.  The  quarrel  grew 
out  of  the  idiotic  greediness  of  his  clients. 
They  wished  to  rob  to  the  point  where  the 
goose  begins  to  squawk — and  forthwith 
changes  from  goose  into  a  creature  of  a 
wholly  different  kind,  fighting  with  feroc 
ity  for  life.  Sayler  proceeded  to  teach  them 
a  lesson.  He,  ostensibly  head  of  the  Repub- 


GEORGE    HELM 

lican  machine  and  hostile  to  everything 
connected  with  the  Democratic  party, 
ordered  his  faithful  ally-lieutenant,  the 
Democratic  State  boss,  Hazelrigg,  to  make 
a  vigorous  unsparing  campaign  against  the 
plutocracy. 

"Give  'em  hell,"  said  Sayler.  "Don't 
turn  loose  a  lot  of  long-eared  cranks. 
They  frighten  sensible  people  and  make  the 
plutocracy  stronger.  Dig  up  some  earnest, 
conscientious  young  fellows — if  there  are 
any  such  that  haven't  been  brought  up  for 
these  stupid  brutes  we're  going  to  teach  a 
lesson." 

Hazelrigg  had  heard  of  Helm.  Pat 
Branagan  had  given  Helm  a  letter  to  him, 
but  Helm  had  not  presented  it  and  had 
been  keeping  out  of  sight  until  he  should 
have  spied  out  the  new  land  of  the  State 
capital.  He  sent  for  Helm  to  look  him 
over.  Hazelrigg  was  a  college  man  who 
132 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  rich.  Discov 
ering,  after  a  few  years  of  effort  by  honest 
ways,  that  if  he  succeeded  at  all  it  would 
be  when  he  was  too  old  to  enjoy,  he  had 
taken  the  short  cut — with  notable  success. 
Being  the  minority  boss,  he  could  maintain 
a  pose  of  virtue  that  deceived  all  but  shrewd 
eyes.  He  understood  Helm  in  the  main  at 
a  glance — asked  him  to  speak  against  a 
rotten  bill  then  pending.  Helm  spoke. 

Hazelrigg  listened  with  mingled  feelings 
of  joy  and  fear.  "We  must  keep  him  poor," 
he  said  to  himself.  "Then  he  can't  make 
trouble  for  us." 

Before  the  first  month  was  over,  Hazel 
rigg  had  made  George  Helm  the  chief 
spokesman  of  the  party  in  its  campaign 
against  the  rapacities  of  the  plutocracy. 
The  old  wheel-horse  orators,  familiar  and 
more  or  less  discredited  slobberers  of  virtu 
ous  sentiments  from  mouths  raw  and  ragged 
133 


GEORGE    HELM 

with  corruption,  were  angered  and  made 
futile  attempts  to  "haze"  the  new  favorite. 
Hazelrigg  soon  quelled  that  mutiny.  Of 
all  the  understrappers  at  the  beck  and  call 
of  a  machine  boss,  the  orators — they  upon 
whose  lips  the  people  hang  spellbound- 
are  the  lowest,  the  most  despised  by  their 
fellow  slaves  and  the  most  brutally  worked 
and  the  most  meagerly  paid. 

As  Sayler  had  taken  the  muzzle  from  the 
press  of  the  State  to  make  his  "object  les 
son"  thoroughly  effective,  in  a  few  weeks 
George  Helm  became  famous — newspaper 
famous — the  beanstalk  variety  of  fame, 
showy  but  perishable.  Bill  Desbrough 
came  up  to  see  him. 

"The  lecture  scheme's  off— isn't  it?" 
said  he. 

"By  no  means,"  replied  Helm.    "I'll  let 
you   into   my  secret,    Bill.     You're  close- 
mouthed — closer  mouthed  than  I  am." 
134 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN'7 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  Desbrough. 

"Yes,  for  I'm  telling  you  my  secret — and 
you'll  not  tell  anybody.  Here's  the  secret! 
By  those  lecture  tours  I'm  going  to  build  up 
in  every  part  of  this  State  a  machine  of  my 
own — groups  of  people  I  can  trust  and  who 
feel  they  can  trust  me.  There's  some  skull 
duggery  back  of  this  spasm  of  party  virtue. 
It  won't  last.  We  must  hurry  and  make  all 
we  can  out  of  it." 

Most  men  cannot  see  the  obvious,  even 
when  it  is  pointed  out  to  them.  The  occa 
sional  rare  man — the  man  of  genius  of  one 
kind  or  another — is  he  who  sees  the  obvious 
without  assistance.  In  between  these  two 
classes  lies  a  third  class,  not  small  like  that 
of  genius — yet  not  huge  like  the  other. 
To  this  third  class — those  able  to  see  the 
obvious  if  and  when  it  is  pointed  out  to 
them — belonged  William  Desbrough.  He 
reflected  on  what  George  Helm  had  said; 
135 


GEORGE    HELM 

and  up  went  his  admiration  a  considerable 
number  of  notches.     Said  he: 

"George,  what  a  run  you'll  give  'em!" 
Helm  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with 
his  loud,  joyous,  boyish  laugh.     "Put  all 
your  money  on  that,  Bill!"  cried  he. 

Helm's  successes  wrought  in  him  the 
usual  swift  change.  The  temperament  of 
success,  the  ability  to  throw  one's  whole 
concentrated  self  into  an  enterprise,  in 
volves  a  highly  organized  nervous  system— 
hence,  extreme  sensitiveness,  torments  from 
anxiety  and  from  self-doubt.  Only  an  iron 
constitution  could  have  borne  the  fatigues 
of  that  first  campagn  of  his — the  now  fam 
ous  "buggy"  campaign— with  its  nerve 
strain  of  the  man  fighting  again  desperate 
odds  to  save  himself  from  ruin  under  ava 
lanches  of  ridicule.  And  when  he  finally 
"made  good"  in  his  home  district,  the  ques 
tion  at  once  arose,  "But  can  I  make  good  at 
136 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN1' 

the  capital?"  This  question  was  in  the 
way  to  be  answered  with  an  emphatic 
yes. 

The  respect  with  which  he  was  treated 
by  other  men — men  of  consequence!  The 
serious  attention  the  papers  gave  his  utter 
ances!  The  huge  piles  of  letters  praising 
his  courage,  his  logic,  his  freedom  from 
crude  abuse,  his  clearness  of  statement — 
letters  from  all  parts  of  the  State,  from  all 
parts  of  the  Union!  Those  letters  made  his 
heart  burn  with  new  energy  and  high  hope. 
He  had  indeed  guessed  right.  The  people 
— his  people — the  long-suffering  masses 
were  certainly  on  the  alert  for  a  leader. 
Yes,  he  was  in  the  way  to  accomplish  some 
thing  of  what  he  had  resolved  when  he  left 
the  farm,  because  he  was  intelligent  enough 
to  discover  that  the  big  monopolies  headed 
by  the  railway  trusts  had  reduced  the  nom 
inally  independent  farmer  to  the  slavery  of 
137 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  poorly  paid  wage-earner  of  the  cities 
and  towns.  He  was  in  the  way  to  be  of  use 
in  the  gigantic  task  of  restoring  democracy 
and  opportunity  to  the  republic. 

This  man,  planted  upon  this  rock- 
founded  confidence,  could  not  but  show  in 
his  exterior  the  external  change.  But  where 
the  small  fellow  reveals  his  fleeting  or 
trivial  success  in  an  access  of  swagger,  the 
large,  simple  nature  reveals  it  in  the  deeper 
absorption  in  the  career,  the  lessened  con 
sciousness  of  self.  And  as  George  Helm's 
Self-consciousness  had  been  the  sole  cause 
of  his  awkwardness  and  the  chief  cause  of 
his  extreme  plainness,  the  change  was  most 
striking.  He  was  no  longer  awkward.  His 
long,  spare  figure  revealed — as  it  always 
had  on  the  platform  after  the  first  embar 
rassed  moment — the  innate  grace  that  is  in 
every  natural,  self-conscious  creature.  As 
for  the  homeliness — how  can  a  strong  face 
138 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 
be  homely  when  in  place  of  the  unattractive 
expression  of  shy  greenness  there  come  the 
dignity  and  beauty  of  a  large  intelligence 
fittingly  occupied  ?  "There  goes  a  man  who 
amounts  to  something/'  they  now  said 
about  Helm.  And  when  you  hear  that  said 
of  a  man,  you  may  be  sure  he  will  not  turn 
to  you  a  homely  face. 

Senator  Sayler  had  come  on  from  Wash 
ington  and  had  taken  a  house  in  the  sub 
urbs  for  the  session  because  of  the  impor 
tance  of  the  curious  program  he  was 
putting  through.  He  went  to  hear  Helm 
speak  against  one  of  the  grab  bills  his  re 
fractory  clients  were  insisting  upon.  Say 
ler,  as  you  knew,  was  a  cynic;  and  when 
you  find  cynicism  in  a  man,  you  may  be 
sure  you  are  at  the  cover  for  a  lively  and 
annoying  secret  self-contempt.  He  listened 
with  his  most  cynical  smile  to  the  simple, 
sensible  eloquence  of  the  young  farmer- 
139 


GEORGE   HELM 

looking  lawyer.  But,  as  he  listened,  he  was 
saying  to  himself,  "We  must  attack  this 
fellow,  but  it  will  not  be  easy."  Afterward 
he  had  Hazelrigg  bring  Helm  to  the  Lieu 
tenant  Governor's  private  room  and  talked 
with  him  for  an  hour.  He  would  have 
talked  much  longer,  had  there  not  been  a 
gentle  knock  at  the  door. 

He  disregarded  it.  The  door  opened  and 
in  came  his  wife — and  Eleanor  Clearwater. 
Mrs.  Sayler — the  trained  wife  of  the  public 
man — smiled  engagingly  at  Helm  and  said 
to  her  husband: 

"We  simply  can't  wait  any  longer,  Har 
vey.  We  were  wondering  how  you  dared 
keep  us  waiting.  But  if  we  had  known 
whom  you  had  with  you—  She  put  out 

her  hand  to  Helm.     "That  was  a  splendid 
speech,  Mr.  Helm.    I  don't  know  you,  but 
it  made  me  feel  as  if  I  did.     I  detest  poli 
tics,  but  not  the  kind  you  talk." 
140 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 
Helm  lapsed  toward,  but  not  into,  his 
former  awkwardness.  He  might  have  done 
better  had  not  Eleanor  been  standing  there, 
not  all  dignity  and  ice,  but  all  merry  smiles 
and  impatience  to  speak. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Helm?"  said  she, 
as  soon  as  Mrs.  Sayler  finished.  "Father 
and  I  came  to  stop  with  Mrs.  Sayler  only 
this  morning — and  here  you  are.  Really, 
it's — it's — what  shall  I  call  it — our  always 
running  across  each  other?" 

Helm  had  no  woman-talk.  He  stood— 
not  too  awkwardly — and  silently  gazed  at 
the  lovely  and  radiant  young  lady  so  unac 
countably  transformed  from  her  former 
cold  reserve.  And,  as  the  astute  Sayler  did 
not  fail  to  note,  he  looked  at  her  hungrily. 
Even  Carlotta  Sayler,  the  self-absorbed,  saw 
in  Helm's  tell-tale  face  that  there  was 
"something  or  other  between  those  two — 
though  how  could  it  possibly  be!" 
141 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I  was  about  to  ask  Mr.  Helm  to  dine 
with  us  to-morrow  night,"  said  Sayler. 

"Yes,  do,"  cried  Carlotta,  who  never 
missed  a  cue.  "It's  to  be  early  and  most 
informal — no  evening  clothes  or  such  non 
sense.  Won't  it  be  delightful,  Eleanor? 
Your  father  will  be  so  pleased  to  meet  one 
of  our  coming  men." 

Poor  Helm  was  framing  a  refusal  when 
he  caught  in  Eleanor's  eyes  a  look  of  appeal 
— a  pleading  request  that  he  accept.  Nor 
had  he  the  excuse  that  Sayler  was  of  the 
enemy.  Sayler  had  shown  him  that  he  har 
bored  no  such  petty  notions  of  obligation 
as  possess  the  average  man  who  fancies  that 
his  foe  ought  to  become  his  friend  If  he  does 
him  the  honor  of  giving  him  a  free  cigar,  or 
a  free  dinner,  or  a  free  drink.  Also,  he 
wished  to  talk  with  Sayler  again,  Sayler, 
expert  at  the  political  game,  had  in  their 
hour's  talk  taught  him  more  than  he  had 
142 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

learned  of  all  the  other  men  with  whom 
he  had  discussed  politics.  And  Sayler  was 
— for  some  mysterious  reason — eager  to  give 
him  the  ammunition  of  facts  about  the 
doings  of  the  plutocracy  which  he  most 
needed. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,  I'll  be  glad  to 
come,"  said  Helm.  He  added,  "I've  heard 
you're  very  dressy  out  at  your  place.  You're 
sure  you  won't  mind  my  clothes?  I  haven't 
any  dress  suits." 

"A  man  can  go  where  he  pleases  in  what 
he  pleases,"  said  Sayler.  "But  there's  no 
truth  in  that  report  about  us.  The  women 
at  our  place  are  dressy,  of  course.  They 
always  are  everywhere.  If  they're  not  that, 
they  think  they're  not  anything — and  per 
haps  they're  right.  But  it's  go-as-you- 
please  with  the  men." 

Sayler  discovered  that  he  wished  to  look 
at  the  west  wing  of  the  capitol,  walked  with 
143 


GEORGE    HELM 

his  wife,  thus  forcing  Helm  to  walk  with 
Eleanor — and  to  walk  ahead  where  he 
could  observe.  There  was  plenty  to  see 

A  serious  young  woman  is  never  in  any 
circumstances  so  interesting  to  a  man  as  a 
light  and  gay,  pretty  woman,  whatever  men 
may  pretend.  It  is  inborn  in  the  male  to 
regard  the  female  as  the  representative  of 
the  lighter  side  of  life;  and  so  long  as  he  is 
not  married  to  her,  light  she  should  be  if  she 
would  please  him — light  and  full  of  co 
quetry  of  the  kind  he  happens  to  regard  as 
"womanly."  George  Helm  had  cherished 
deep  in  his  heart  a  peculiar  feeling  for 
Eleanor  Clearwater  since  that  first  long 
talk  he  had  with  her,  the  only  woman  he 
had  met  who  possessed  worldly  knowledge 
and  beauty,  refined  and  glorified  by  the 
highest  civilized  arts  of  manner  and  dress. 
Not  love — not  possibility  of  love,  though 
he  fancied  it  was  love!  Rather,  a  feeling 
144 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

that  here  at  last  was  a  representative  of  the 
best  in  womankind — and  George  Helm, 
like  all  the  ambitious,  was  born  with  the 
passion  for  the  best  of  everything. 

But  this  Eleanor  was  no  longer  the  em- 
pedestaled  goddess,  the  passive  recipient  of 
the  homage  due  her  beauty  and  her  taste 
and  her  station.  She  had  come  to  life;  she 
had  descended  from  her  pedestal;  she  had 
placed  herself — no,  not  within  reach  of 
men,  but  most  tantalizingly  less  out  of 
reach.  And  she  spent  that  half  hour  or  so 
in  deliberately  trying  to  captivate  him,  in 
putting  him  at  ease,  in  making  him  feel 
that  she  was  almost  if  not  quite  within 
reach.  She  did  not  herself  realize — but 
Harvey  Sayler  did — how  far  she  was  going. 
But  neither  did  she  realize  how  much  she 
had  been  affected  by  the  fact  that  each  time 
she  saw  this  man  he  had  made  a  stride  for 
ward  as  with  seven  league  boots  away  from 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  crudeness  of  the  bucolic  and  toward  his 
certain  goal  of  power  with  vast  masses  of 
men.  If  she  had  not  heard  the  speech  be 
fore  she  saw  him,  if  she  had  not  found  her 
own  opinion  confirmed  by  Sayler's  manner 
toward  him,  she  probably  would  not  have 
gone  so  far.  Not  because  she  was  calculat 
ing,  you  reader  ever  ready  to  discover  your 
own  deepest  failings,  however  slightly  man 
ifested  in  another;  but  because  she  was  hu 
man — delightfully  human,  since  George 
Helm  had  dropped  her  abruptly  down 
from  the  perch  to  which  she  had  been  raised 
by  lifelong  flatteries  and  extravagant  com 
pliment. 

However,  it  was  not  until  after  dinner 
the  following  night  that  she  really  "laid 
siege."  She  was  alone  with  poor  Helm  in 
the  library — how  cleverly  the  sly  Sayler 
had  maneuvered  that! 

You  have  seen  a  large  fish  moving  in  ease 
146 


\ 

Vx 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN" 
and  grace  through  the  water?  You  have 
seen  that  same  fish  flopping  and  floundering 
and  flapping  about  on  land  to  which  the 
angler  has  drawn  it?  That  visualizes 
George  Helm,  at  home  among  men,  among 
politicians,  or  making  a  speech,  and  George 
Helm  in  a  drawing-room  among  a  lot  of 
women  in  dresses  cut  as  he  had  seen  them 
cut  only  in  illustrations.  And  the  most 
ludicrous  part  of  it  all  was  that  he  fancied 
himself  perfectly  at  ease.  Eleanor  Clear- 
water  had  hypnotized  him  into  imagining 
his  flounderings  were  like  his  motions  in  his 
native  element. 

Said  she  at  length — any  woman  and  al 
most  any  man  can  supply  the  preliminary 
or  leading-up  conversation: 

"What  a  fascinating  career  you  will  have ! 

Oh,  I  know  you  haven't  told  me  about  it. 

You  simply  won't  talk  about  yourself,  and 

have  made  me  tell  you  everything  about 

147 


GEORGE    HELM 
myself  from  bibs  up.    But  I  can  guess  your 


career." 


"We  had  only  got  you  as  far  as  short 
dresses,"  said  he.  "When  you  left  that 
boarding  school— 

"Nothing  since,"  interrupted  she.  "I've 
simply  been  sitting  round  waiting  for  a 
husband.  What  else  is  there  for  a  woman? 
Still,  I  never  wish  I'd  been  a  man." 

"Why  not?"  asked  George.  He  was 
twisted  into  one  of  his  strange  poses — legs 
wound  round  each  other,  body  bent  for 
ward,  supported  by  his  elbows.  He  had 
never  been  so  blissfully,  airily  happy  as 
watching  this  beautiful  girl,  with  the  most 
wonderful  light  he  had  ever  beheld  reflect 
ing  from  her  fair  shoulders. 

She  looked  at  him  with  eyes  suddenly 

grave.     "Because  as  a  woman  I  have  the 

chance  to  be  some  day  loved  by  a  man.    As 

a  man"-  -  her  eyes  danced — "I'd  have  had 

148 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 
nothing    to    look    forward    to    but    just    a 


woman." 


"What  kind  of  a  man  do  you  want?" 
asked  he — and  his  honest,  rugged  face 
showed  in  its  frank  innocence  how  imper 
sonal  the  question  was. 

"A  man  like  you,"  said  she  audaciously, 
her  face  merry. 

He  laughed  loudly — a  contagious  out 
burst  of  joyous  good  humor  that  made  the 
luxurious,  conventional  room  seem  a  poor 
sort  of  place.  Such  a  laugh  is  a  very  differ 
ent  matter  from  one  that  seems  a  poor, 
noisy  sort  of  clamor  in  a  room. 

"You  have  courage — strength.  You 
don't  pose."  All  this  she  said  with  the 
lightness  that  made  it  in  good  taste — and 
none  the  less  sincere.  "You  are  on  the  side 
all  these  other  men  have  deserted  as  soon 
as  they  became  prosperous." 

"Perhaps  I  shall,  too,"  said  he. 
149 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I  suppose  it  must  be  the  wrong  side,  or 
surely  all  of  them  wouldn't  have  left  it. 
But — somehow,  I  think  you  won't." 

"I  can't,"  said  he.  And  he — his  real 
self — began  to  look  from  his  eyes — and  to 
look  at  her. 

In  spite  of  herself,  she  became  serious. 
"No — you  can't,"  assented  she,  absently. 
"You've  changed — every  time  I've  seen 
you.  But  not  in  that  one  respect.  When 
ever  I  look  at  you,  I  still  see — as  I  did  that 
first  time — farms  and  factories — and  thou 
sands  of  men  and  women  at  work 

"And  children,"  he  interrupted,  a  strange, 
somehow  ferocious  note  in  his  quiet  voice. 

"I  don't  forget  them,"  said  she.  "I  try 
to,  but  I  don't.  .  .  .  No,  you'll  not  change 
sides.  And  you'll  marry  some  woman  on 
that  side,  and  she'll— 

"I'll  marry  the  woman  I  want — when  I 
can  afford  to  marry,"  said  he.  "Women 
150 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 
aren't  on  one  side  or  the  other.    This  is  a 
man's  fight.    A  woman — she  goes  with  the 
man  who  takes  her." 

She  smiled  with  some  raillery.  "Be  care 
ful  to  select  the  woman  of  that  sort,"  said 
she,  "or  you  may  have  to  change  your  mind 
— suddenly  and  rather  disagreeably — about 


women." 


He  made  a  large  gesture  of  indifference. 

"You  don't  care  about  women?"  she 
asked. 

A  look  of  melancholy  came  into  his  face. 
He  said  with  a  quaint  smile,  "They  began 
it.  They  don't  care  about  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"What  a  foolish  question!" 

"You're  mistaken,"  said  she.  "Any 
woman  would  like  you,  and  if  a  woman  fell 
in  love  with  you  she'd  be  crazy  about  you." 

He  laughed  boyishly  as  at  a  huge  joke. 

"You're  a  peculiar  sort  of  man — a  sort 


GEORGE    HELM 

not  many  women  would  appreciate.  If 
you  find  one  who  does,  you'll  see  that  I  was 
right.  She'll  be  a  peculiar  sort  of  woman 
and  she'll  belong  to  you." 

There  was  pathos  in  his  expression  of 
gratitude.  She  saw  it,  understood  it — and 
the  tears  welled  into  her  eyes.  What  a 
lonely,  fascinating  figure  of  a  man — so  dif 
ferent  from  all  other  men — so  modest  about 
himself — and  with  such  incredibly  lumin 
ous  eyes,  tender  yet  strong.  She  was  look 
ing  directly  at  him.  The  changing  expres 
sion  of  his  eyes  terrified  her — fascinated 
her.  He  stood  up,  and  his  gesture  com 
pelled  her  to  stand  also — and  to  look  at 
him.  He  stretched  out  his  powerful  arm. 
She  tried  to  draw  back;  she  could  not. 

"I  believe,"  said  he  in  an  awed,  hushed 
voice,  his  eyes  looking  at  her  wonderingly, 
"I  believe  you  are  the  woman." 

He  had  misunderstood,  she  said  to  her- 
152 


"THERE  GOES  A  MAN'1 
self.  Then-  "No,"  she  thought,  "I've 
been  leading  him  on.  What  a  foolish, 
bad  thing  to  do!  And  he  thinks  I  was 
in  earnest — when  nothing  could  induce 
me " 

He  interrupted  her  thoughts  with,  "Yes 
—you  are  the  woman!" 

He  had  her  shoulders  in  his  grasp  now 
and  was  looking  down  at  her  with  an  ex 
pression  of  sheer  amazement,  mingled  with 
a  tenderness  that  sent  a  thrill  and  a  hot 
wave  of — yes,  of  delight — through  her. 
This  man—  She,  Eleanor  Clearwater, 
tolerate  the  touch  of  this  man  and — delight 
in  it! 

"That  is  absurd!"  she  cried  hysterically. 
She  looked  at  him  with  pleading  eyes. 
"Let  me  go — please." 

He  lifted  his  hands  from  her  shoulders. 
Then — how  it  happened  she  never  could 
understand — she,  trying  to  draw  back,  was 
153 


GEORGE    HELM 

drawn  forward — into  his  arms — had  been 
kissed  by  him — was  in  a  whirl  of  joy,  of 
terror,  of  wonder,  of  disbelief  in  the  reality 
of  what  was  happening.  She,  who  prided 
herself  on  never  having  allowed  any  man  to 
be  in  the  least  familiar  with  her — she  in 
the  arms  of  this  bucolic  person  whom  she 
hardly  knew.  It  was  impossible — it  was 
insane. 

"Please  let  me  go,"  she  said  feebly.  "I 
don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me!" 

He  was  holding  her  at  arm's  length  again 
—this  powerful  man,  with  the  compelling 
eyes—  If  only  he  would  not  look  at  her  so, 
she  might  recover  herself.  He  was  saying 
in  the  sweetest,  tenderest  voice  she  had  ever 
heard: 

"You — for  me!  It  simply  can't  be,  Miss 
Clearwater." 

"Some  woman  will  care  for  you — as  I 
told  you,"  she  said  in  a  breathless  way.  "But 
154 


"THERE    GOES    A    MAN" 
not  I.    You  told  me  once  you  wouldn't  have 


me." 


"But  I  didn't  know  you  then,"  replied 
he.  "Now — I've  got  to  have  you !" 

She  gave  a  cry  of  dismay.  "Oh — don't 
say  that — please!"  she  pleaded.  "I'm  sure 
you  don't  want  me." 

"No,  I  don't  want  you,"  confessed  he, 
frankly.  "I  don't  know  what  on  earth  I'm 
going  to  do  with  you.  How  can  you  break 
with  your  father  and  everybody  and  go 
tracking  off  into  poverty  with  me?" 

"As  for  that,"  began  she,  "I've  got  some 
thing  of  my  own,  and— 

She  stopped  short  in  horror.  What  was 
she  saying?  Who  was  talking  out  of  her 
mouth  and  with  her  voice?  She  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  "I  don't  mean  it 
-I'm  mad — crazy  1"  And  she  was  in  his 
arms,  with  him  caressing  her  hair. 

"You  don't  want  me,"    he    said    gently, 


GEORGE    HELM 

"and  I  don't  want  you.     But  it  looks  as  if 
we'd  got  to — doesn't  it,  Ellen?" 

If  there  had  been  any  abbreviation  of  her 
name  that  she  detested  more  than  any  and 
all  others,  it  had  been  Ellen.  Yet  now— 
in  this  absurd,  lunatic  dream  she  was  hav 
ing,  she  liked  Ellen — in  his  voice.  It 
seemed  to  be  the  name  she  had  been  waiting 
for,  the  name  her  man  would  brand  upon 
her.  Ellen.  No  longer  Eleanor  Clear- 
water,  but  just  Ellen — nothing  more. 

She  laughed  hysterically.  "I'm  glad  you 
didn't  select  Ella  instead,"  said  she.  "No 
doubt  I'd  have  accepted  it,  but  I'd  always 
have  felt  low." 

They  were  looking  at  each  other  in  a 
dazed  way.  At  the  sound  of  voices  and 
laughter  in  the  hall,  both  started  and  the 
crimson  of  shame  deepened  and  deepened 
on  Miss  Clearwater's  cheeks  and  neck  and 
shoulders.  They  faced  the  others  with 
156 


"THERE    GOES   A    MAN" 

every  sign  of  confusion  and  guilt,  neither 
daring  to  look  at  the  other.  He  stammered 
out  phrases  of  departure  and  left,  still  with 
not  a  glance  at  her.  Sayler  decided  that  he 
had  made  an  absurd  premature  proposal 
and  had  been  sent  about  his  business— 
"When  he  might  have  had  her  if  he'd  kept 
after  her  with  a  firm  tread." 

Out  in  the  cold  winter  night,  George 
strode  along  until  he  was  half  way  to  his 
hotel.  Then  he  paused  and  addressed  the 
stars,  reeling  with  silent  laughter! 

"What  a  damn  fool  I've  made  of  my 
self!" 

Another  man  might  have  said,  "What  a 
fool  she  made  of  me!"  But  George  Helm 
was  no  self-excuser,  no  shifter  of  responsi 
bilities. 

"But  I've  got  to  put  it  through,"  he  went 
on,  still  speaking  aloud  but  addressing  the 
dim    landscape   in    the   horizon    of   which 
157 


GEORGE    HELM 

towered  the  Capitol.  "And  since  IVe  got 
to  do  it,  I'll  do  it!" 

A  damn  fool! — to  take  upon  his  already 
too  heavily  burdened  shoulders  this  extra 
weight  of  a  woman — and  just  the  kind  of 
woman  who  could  be  heaviest,  most  useless. 

However,  instead  of  walking  with  bent 
shoulders,  he  strode  along,  shoulders  erect. 
And  presently  he  was  whistling  like  a  boy 
in  a  pasture. 


IV 

THE    MATCH-MAKER 

MEN — and  women — who  restrain 
sentiment  to  an  obscure,  unef- 
fectual  part  in  their  own  lives 
take  enormous  interest  in  it  everywhere  else. 
They  have  melting  eyes  and  troublesome 
noses  and  throats  at  sentimental  plays. 
They  give  to  street  beggars  and  patronize 
the  literature  of  slop.  They  are  assiduous 
matchmakers  and  want  every  one — except 
their  own  sons  and  daughters — to  marry  for 
love  alone. 

There  was  not  a  little  of  this  in  the  com 
position  of  Harvey  Sayler,  the  interesting 
boss  of  the  Middle  West — more  interesting 
than  the  ordinary  purely  commercial  boss 
159 


GEORGE    HELM 

because  he  was  at  heart  a  bold  and  reckless 
gambler,  one  who  had  less  interest  in  the 
stakes  than  in  the  game.  He  was  in  a  senti 
mental  mood  about  George  Helm  and 
Eleanor  Clearwater.  George  Helm,  the 
lean  and  lank,  countrified  new  orator  whom 
Sayler's  secret  lieutenant,  the  Democratic 
state  boss  Hazelrigg,  had  discovered  in  the 
State  Senate;  Eleanor  Clearwater,  heiress 
to  the  notorious — that  is,  famous — lumber 
king  and  Senator,  a  lady  to  her  finger  tips, 
fond  of  playing  with  "fine  ideas"  of  all 
kinds,  but  helplessly  dependent  upon  the 
culture  and  the  luxury  that  can  be  got  only 
by  acts  which  proceed  from  anything  but 
"fine  ideas."  A  love  affair,  an  engagement, 
a  marriage  between  these  two  appealed  to 
Sayler's  love  of  the  sentimentally  romantic. 
Also,  Sayler  had  a  streak  of  sardonic 
humor  in  him.  He  liked  the  mischievous 
pranks  of  fate — with  the  persons  and  prop- 
1 60 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

erty  and  destiny  of  others.  And  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  coming  together  of  these 
two  would  be  one  of  fate's  masterpieces  at 
the  practical  joke.  And  how  old  Clear- 
water,  the  risen  from  farm  hand,  the  intoxi 
cated  aristocrat,  the  unending  snob,  would 
rage  and  rave! 

Also — and  this  was  the  most  important 
of  all,  for  Sayler  never  did  anything  that 
wasn't  a  move  in  his  game—  Also — he 
wanted  George  Helm. 

For  purposes  that  need  not  here  be  gone 
into,  Sayler  had  ordered  the  Democrats  to 
make  a  furious  assault  upon  his  protege  and 
ally  and  master,  the  plutocracy.  Hazelrigg, 
obeying  orders,  had  selected  Helm  to  lead 
the  attack,  because  Helm  was  about  the  only 
available  man  not  publicly  suspected  of 
crookedness  and  hypocrisy,  was  an  earnest, 
sincere  and  effective  speaker,  shrewd  and 
sane.  After  Sayler  heard  Helm  speak, 
161 


GEORGE    HELM 

r, 

Hazelrigg  hunted  him  up  at  the  University 
Club.  Those  clubs  to  which  men  of  all  po 
litical  faiths  can  and  do  belong  are  most 
useful  for  meetings  of  this  sort.  Said 
Hazelrigg: 

"What  do  you  think  of  him,  Senator?" 

"Of  Helm?"  said  Sayler.  A  non-com 
mittal  smile — and  that  was  all. 

"A  dangerous  man,  I'd  say,"  proceeded 
Hazelrigg.  "He  looks  like  a  farmer  and 
he's  homely  as  a  horse.  But  there's  nothing 
of  the  jay  about  that  brain  of  his.  And 
how  he  does  wake  up,  and  wake  things  up, 
when  he  gets  that  lanky  form  of  his  straight 
on  his  big  feet." 

Sayler  smiled  again.  He  was  a  loqua 
cious  man,  like  all  men  of  abounding  men 
tality.  All  lakes  that  are  copiously  fed  must 
copiously  overflow.  But  he  had  the  big 
man's  usual  false  reputation  for  taciturnity. 
He  was  never  anything  but  silent,  or  at 
162 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

most  terse,  with  understrappers.  That 
sort  of  cattle  had  to  be  dealt  with  care 
fully. 

"He's  doing  what  I  asked  him  to  do,  too 
damn  well,"  said  Hazelrigg.  "I'll  have  to 
choke  him  off." 

Sayler,  however,  was  resolved  to  give  his 
clients  of  the  plutocracy  a  thoroughgoing 
scare.  Said  he: 

"Oh,  why  not  let  him  alone  for  the  pres 
ent,  Hazelrigg?"  Sayler  was  one  of  those 
who  give  orders  in  the  form  of  interroga 
tive  suggestions. 

"But  he  makes  me  nervous,"  objected  the 
Democratic  boss.  "He's  spreading  like 
wildfire.  I  may  have  to  nominate  him  for 
governor." 

"Why  not?"  said  Sayler.  A  sentimental 
smile;  he  was  thinking  of  the  "match." 

"But — damn  it,  he'd  likely  be  elected." 

"Well — a    good    beating   might    do    my 

163 


GEORGE    HELM 

party  a  world  of  good.  We've  been  in  too 
long." 

"But — I'm  afraid  I  can't  get  any  hold  on 
him." 

Sayler  deigned  no  answer  but  a  satirical 
smile. 

"He'd  probably  make  four  years  of 
merry  hell.  A  governor  can  do  a  lot  in  this 
state.  He  can  do;  so  he  doesn't  dare  talk 
without  doing,  like  most  governors." 

"He'd  make  a  good  governor,"  said  Say 
ler. 

"Yes — if  I  could  get  some  hold  on  him." 

Sayler's  eyes  were  amused.  Said  he — 
and  he  had  the  habit  of  being  intensely  rel 
evant  while  seeming  to  be  most  irrelevant: 

"Curious  jaw,  that  young  fellow's  got. 
Did  you  notice  how  long  it  is  from  ear  to 
chin?  There's  a  foolish  notion  about  that — 
a  long  chin  is  a  sign  of  strength.  It  means 
nothing — nor  does  a  short  chin.  It's  the 
164 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

length  of  the  jaw  that  makes  persistence — 
endurance — and  the  unafraidness  that 
advances  without  a  tremor  where  even 
courage  hesitates.  An  interesting  young 
man." 

Hazelrigg  had  never  heard  so  long — or 
so  puzzling — a  speech  from  his  secret  chief 
tain.  He  said  desperately  : 

"I  give  you  fair  warning,  Senator,  he  may 
make  it  damned  interesting  for  us  if  we 
aren't  careful." 

Sayler  laughed  pleasantly.  "I  wish  he 
would.  I'm  tired  of  fighting  mere  cranks— 
or  knaves  attacking  us  simply  to  shake  us 
down.  Why  is  it,  Hazelrigg,  that  the  best 
can  be  changed  into  the  worst?  To  find  an 
absolutely  abandoned  woman,  don't  look 
among  the  girls  from  the  lower  classes. 
Find  one  born  a  lady,  bred  a  lady.  To  get  a 
chap  who'll  swallow  any  insult  with  gusto, 
who'll  do  any  kind  of  dirty  work  with  pleas- 
165 


GEORGE    HELM 

ure — go  among  the  fallen  gentlemen.  Sev 
eral  in  this  club." 

Sayler  strolled  away.  Hazelrigg  was 
laughing — uncomfortably.  He  said  to 
himself,  "Well,  if  the  Senator  was  rap 
ping  me,  he  was  banging  his  own  conk, 
too." 

Sayler  had  brought  Helm  and  Miss 
Clearwater  together  at  his  house  the  night 
before — had  arranged  it  as  soon  as  their 
chance  meeting  in  his  presence  had  revealed 
to  his  shrewd  eyes  that  there  was  some 
thing  peculiar  in  their  relations,  something 
unwarranted  by  so  casual  an  acquaintance 
as  theirs  apparently  had  been.  And  when, 
after  he  had  seen  to  it  that  they  were  left 
alone  together,  he  had  found  them  in  a 
state  of  nervousness  that  indicated  any 
thing  but  a  smooth  session,  he  had  decided 
that  Helm  had  made  the  mistake  of  propos 
ing  too  precipitately — and  had  been  refused. 
166 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

He  now  went  down  to  the  Capitol  to  hunt 
Helm  up. 

An  extraordinary  amount  of  trouble  for 
so  distinguished  a  man  to  take  about  an  al 
most  obscure  youth  of  rugged  appearance, 
one  he  knew  hardly  at  all.  But  Sayler  was 
a  profound  man.  It  had  been  said  of  him 
that  he  had  ruined  more  young  men  than 
any  man  of  his  time.  It  was  his  habit  to 
seek  out  any  youth  who  showed,  to  his 
acute  insight  into  human  nature,  indica 
tions  of  unusual  abilities.  As  there  are  not 
many  such  under  our  system  of  crushing  in 
infancy  or  near  it,  all  but  a  very  few  of  the 
very  strongest  or  luckiest,  he  had  plenty  of 
time  left  over  for  his  other  affairs.  When 
he  had  won  the  personal  liking  of  such  a 
young  man,  he  proceeded  to  show  him — by 
ways  of  most  delicate  subtlety — how  wise 
and  sensible  and  just  it  was  for  a  man  of 
ambition  to  come  in  with  the  triumphant 
167 


GEORGE    HELM 

classes,  and  not  let  any  academic  senti 
mentality  attach  him  to  the  lost  and  hope 
less  and  morally  doubtful  cause  of  the 
masses. 

For  a  few  years  Sayler  had  drawn  about 
himself,  had  drawn  to  the  support  of  his 
policy  of  the  earth  for  the  strong  and  the 
sly,  scores  of  the  brightest  young  men  of  the 
Middle  West.  They  served  him  well.  They 
imbibed  his  genial  philosophy  of  mingled 
generosity  and  cynicism.  And  in  exchange 
for  the  support  and  the  power  they  gave 
him,  he  gave  them  office  and  money  and 
fame.  He  regarded  himself  as  a  benefactor. 
His  young  men  regarded  him  as  a  benefac 
tor.  Only  cranks  denounced  him  as  a 
procurer  and  a  rake  of  the  vilest  de 
scription. 

He  had  seen  great  possibilities  in  this  big, 
unformed,   young   state   senator,   with    the 
gift  for  eloquent  clear  statement  and  with 
168 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

the  voice  and  the  eyes  that  captivated.     He 
purposed  to  be  his  benefactor. 

Helm  was  alone  in  one  of  the  committee 
rooms,  absorbed  in  the  agitated  composi 
tion  of  a  letter.  There  were  all  the  ob 
vious  signs  that  much  time  and  paper  were 
being  consumed  in  vain.  Sayler  paused  a 
moment  to  look  well  at  his  proposed  next 
"victim,"  as  the  cranks  would  have  put  it. 
That  long,  lean,  powerful  form,  uncouth 
yet  curiously  graceful — and  somehow  so  in 
tensely  magnetic!  That  huge,  rough-look 
ing  head,  the  strong  features,  the  out-door 
skin.  But  Sayler  saw  only  the  superb  line 
of  the  head,  the  long  reach  of  the  jaw. 
Said  he  to  himself:  "This  fellow  looks 
more  worth  getting  than  any  I've  ever  tried 
for." 

He  advanced  and  laid  his  hand  on 
Helm's  shoulder.  Said  he,  as  Helm  looked 
up,  startled: 

169 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I'm  going  to  take  a  great  liberty  with 
you,  Helm.  I'm  somewhat  older — but  not 
old  enough  to  be  out  of  your  class.  And 
I'm  a  friend  of — of  hers — and  I  want  to  be 
a  friend  of  yours." 

The  color  flooded  poor  George's  face. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do.  The  man- 
and-woman  game  was  as  strange  to  him  as 
sailor  life  to  the  plainsman.  And  Sayler 
had  adroitly  leaped  over  the  barrier  of 
sensitiveness  which  Helm  had  begun  to 
build  about  his  inmost  self  as  soon  as  he 
had  begun  to  talk. 

"I  know  you're  writing  to  her,"  pro 
ceeded  the  frank  and  simple  Sayler,  "and 
I'm  sure  it's  something  foolish.  The  thing 
to  do  is  to  go  and  face  her.  She's  leaving 
this  afternoon." 

"To-day!"  exclaimed  Helm,  puzzled. 
"She  said  last  night  she  was  staying  a 
week." 

170 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

"She's  leaving — because  of  you.  When 
a  woman  thinks  highly  enough  of  a  man  to 
fly  from  him,  all  he  needs  do  to  get  her  is 
run  her  down." 

"She's  leaving?"  said  Helm.  He  began 
to  tear  up  the  paper.  "Leaving  on  my  ac 
count."  He  gave  a  laugh  of  relief.  "Then 
it's  all  settled,  and  I  don't  need  to  write." 
He  tore  the  paper  into  little  bits  and  sent 
them  to  join  the  mass  of  similar  little  bits 
in  the  basket.  "Evidently  she  got  her  head 
back  this  morning — just  as  I  did.  I  wonder 
what  there  is  about  night  time  that  makes 
people  so  excited  and— 

"And  courageous,"  said  Sayler.  "I  wish 
I'd  had  the  daring  to  do  the  things  the 
night  has  urged  me  to  do." 

Helm  shook  his  head  laughingly.     "The 

night's  insane,  the  day's  sane,"  retorted  he. 

"I  went  crazy  last  night,  Mr.  Sayler.    I've 

got  so  little  that  I  have  to  skimp  to  get 

171 


GEORGE    HELM 

along  at  all — and  my  prospects  of  any  more 
money  are  mighty  poor,  I  can  tell  you." 
With  a  humorous  twinkle,  "You  see,  I'm 
not  on  your  side — the  buttered  side.  I'm 
on  the  other  side  where  there  isn't  any 
butter.  Anyhow,  I've  no  use  for  a  wife — 
especially  such  a  wife  as  that  sort  of  a 
woman  would  be.  And  she —  Why,  she 
wouldn't  want  me  as  a  husband  if  I  was  the 
last  man  on  earth." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Sayler.  "Under  all 
that  trumpery  flummery  she's  just  a  woman, 
and  wants  what  any  other  woman  wants — a 
man.  And  I  think,  my  friend,  that  you 
come  pretty  near  to  sizing  up  to  that  de 
scription." 

"She  don't  want  me,  nor  I  her,"  insisted 
Helm.  "It  was  nothing  but  plain  lunacy, 
my  asking  her  to  marry  me  and  her  ac 
cepting." 

Sayler  was  so  astounded  that  he  almost 
172 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

betrayed  himself.  His  eyes  sparkled  senti 
mentally,  and  he  gave  the  younger  man  a 
resounding  clap  on  the  shoulder.  Why,  the 
conquest  was  as  good  as  made!  "She 
accepted  you,  Helm,  because  she  wants  you. 
Last  night  she  knew  her  real  mind.  By  day 
light,  she's  full  of — of  all  sorts  of  pitiful 
fears.  Go  save  her,  Helm.  Go  to  her.  As 
soon  as  she's  told  her  father,  and  he  begins 
to  fight  you,  everything's  safe.  I  know  her. 
She  isn't  a  quitter,  and  her  father  will  say 
things  that  will  make  her  wild  with  rage — 
and  with  love  for  you." 

By  this  time  neither  of  these  men,  drawn 
together  by  their  many  traits  of  mind  and 
character  in  common,  had  the  slightest 
sense  of  strangeness.  They  felt  like  old 
friends.  Helm  said: 

"But  /  don't  want  her,  Sayler.  I've  got 
no  money  for  her — no  time  for  her — no 
place  for  her." 


GEORGE    HELM 

"You  love  her — don't  you?"  said  Sayler 
audaciously. 

Helm  slowly  collapsed  into  one  of  his 
uncouth  poses. 

"You  see — you  do.  That  means — what? 
Why,  that  you've  got  to  have  her.  A  man 
of  your  sort  is  no  good  with  a  thing  like  that 
unsettled." 

Helm  reflected.  "No,"  he  finally  said. 
"I've  put  her  out  of  my  mind  before,  and  I 
can  do  it  again.  Whenever  I  don't  want  to 
think  of  anything,  I  get  together  so  many 
other  things  to  worry  about  that  there  isn't 
room  or  time  to  worry  about  it.  She's 
flying.  Let  her  fly.  That  settles  it." 

"Didn't  you  tell  me  you  proposed  to 
her?" 

Helm  nodded. 

"And  that  she  accepted  you?" 

"But  it's  all  over,"  said  Helm. 

"By  no   means,"   declared   the   adroiter 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

man.  "She  has  given  you  her  promise.  She 
will  say  nothing  because  she  will  not  wish 
to  hurt  you.  But  she'll  keep  to  her  promise 
until  you  release  her." 

Helm  looked  dismal.  "Is  that  the  way 
those  things  are  managed?" 

"You'll  ruin  her  life,  Helm.  You've  got 
to  go  to  her — like  a  man.  Don't  do  a  cow 
ardly  thing — such  as  silence,  or  writing  a 
foolish  note.  Face  her.  It's  the  only  square 
thing." 

And  to  Helm  it  seemed  so.    He  groaned. 

"Come  along.  I'll  go  with  you,  and  see 
that  you  and  she  have  a  chance  for  an  un 
disturbed  talk." 

"Wait  a  minute.  I  want  to  think." 
Helm  went  to  the  window  and  stared  out 
into  the  capitol  grounds.  Sayler  seated 
himself,  lit  a  cigar  and  read  a  newspaper. 
Never  had  cake  of  his  been  spoiled  by  mess 
ing  at  the  baking  but  unbaked  dough. 
175 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm  took  much  more  than  the  one  minute 
he  had  asked  for.  When  he  turned,  it  was 
to  say  with  the  composure  of  a  man  under 
control : 

"Thank  you,  Sayler — you've  done  me  a 
good  turn.  I  am  nothing  of  a  lady's  man. 
If  you  hadn't  interfered,  I'd  have  done 
something  that  as  you  say  would  have  been 
contemptible.  I'm  ready  when  you  are." 

Rarely  is  there  a  successful  man — even 
the  crude  seeker  of  petty  power  rising  to 
foreman  of  the  gang  of  laborers — who  has 
not,  however  tough  his  skin  or  hide  may 
seem  to  be,  a  supersensitive  nervous  sys 
tem,  more  acute  than  that  of  ordinary  men 
and  women,  though  they  may  pretend  to 
the  most  delicate  sensitiveness.  Sayler  was 
as  sensitive  as  he  seemed  phlegmatic.  He 
never  failed  to  sense  the  mood  of  the  person 
he  was  with.  Therefore,  he  dropped  the 
subject  of  Eleanor  and  talked  speeches. 
176 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

Helm,  another  man  of  that  same  acute 
sensibility,  responded  as  if  he  had  no  con 
cern  in  the  world  beyond  discussion  of  how 
speeches  should  be  worked  up  and  deliv 
ered.  Sayler,  deeply  interested  in  the  sub 
ject  and  in  the  man,  led  him  on  to  describe 
his  own  method,  this  so  sympathetically— 
rather  than  adroitly — that  Helm  took  from 
his  pocket  an  old  letter  on  the  blank  side  of 
whose  single  sheet  he  had  outlined  the 
"backbone"  of  a  speech  he  was  to  make 
against  a  perpetual  grant  of  a  big  trolley 
franchise.  The  franchise  meant,  of  course, 
the  creation  of  a  huge  mass  of  stocks  and 
bonds  which  would  enable  many  genera 
tions  of  a  certain  group  of  the  upper  class 
to  live  luxuriously  by  taking  impudent  toll 
from  the  masses  in  exchange  for  no  service 
rendered. 

"I  shall  take  up  the  franchise  in  a  series 
of  speeches,"  explained  Helm.     "In  each 
177 


GEORGE    HELM 

speech  I'll  make  one  point  and  only  one. 
That's  always  my  method.  If  you  want  to 
dazzle  a  crowd,  you  make  a  speech  full  of 
good  points.  But  if  you  want  to  convince 
them,  you  take  one  point  and  drive  it  home 
with  a  succession  of  blows,  all  on  the  head 
of  that  same  nail." 

Sayler  nodded.  "Won't  you  let  me  see 
that  'backbone'  as  you  call  it?"  he  asked. 

"Nail  is  a  better  name,"  said  Helm. 

"Nail  for  the  lid  of  the  coffin  of  the  trol 
ley  franchise  grab,"  said  Sayler. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Helm. 

"So  do  I,"  rejoined  Sayler. 

Helm  gave  him  the  sheet  of  paper  and 
Sayler  read  in  Helm's  minute  hand  this 
series  of  notes: 

Luxurious  idlers. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen.  The  more  of  them 
we  have  the  poorer  we  become. 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

Proof : 

Comfort  means  wealth  and  leisure  to  en 
joy — that  is,  comfort  in  the  lady  and  gentle 
man's  sense  of  the  word. 

Leisure  to  enjoy  means  little  or  no  labor. 

But  wealth  can  be  created  only  by  labor 
ing;  wealth  is  nothing  but  the  proceeds  of 
labor. 

Therefore, 

To  have  comfort,  in  the  lady  and  gentle 
man  sense,  in  the  sense  in  which  our  new 
luxury-mad  upper  class  is  determined  to 
have  it,  means  that  one  must  "appropriate" 
—that  is,  steal — the  proceeds  of  the  labor  of 
others. 

First  corollary:  That  the  more  "com 
fortable"  the  upper  class  becomes,  the  more 
of  the  proceeds  of  the  labor  of  others  it 
must  be  stealing. 

Second  corollary:  Since  the  amount  of 
labor  a  man  can  do  is  necessarily  limited  by 
179 


GEORGE    HELM 

his  strength,  then  the  more  of  the  proceeds 
of  his  labor  is  stolen  from  him,  the  less  there 
is  left  for  him  and  the  worse  off  he  becomes. 
General  conclusion:  The  more  ladies  and 
gentlemen  we  have,  the  harder  we  must 
work  and  the  poorer  we  must  become. 

Sayler  read  this  document  through  twice. 
Then  he  handed  it  back  to  Helm.  He  was 
smiling  cynically  to  himself.  Said  he: 

"Q.  E.  D.  But — why  did  you  show  it  to 
me?" 

Helm's  gaze  rested  gravely  upon  that  of 
the  plutocratic  chieftain  for  the  Middle 
West.  He  replied: 

"I  see  that  you  want  to  be  friends  with 
me.  Why,  I  don't  know.  I  am  willing — 
more  than  willing  to  be  friends  with  you. 
But  I  want  you  to  have  no  delusions.  I 
want  you  to  know  just  where  I  stand — 
where  I  shall  always  stand." 
1 80 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

"I  hope  so,"  lied  Sayler,  with  a  generous 
manliness  that  half  fooled  himself.  "I'm 
not  a  zealot  like  you.  I  don't  believe  in 
men,  in  human  nature.  I  think  progress 
comes  through  the  fierce  struggle  of  brutal 
ity  and  cunning  against  the  stupid  shiftless- 
ness  and  indolence  of  mankind.  I  admit 
there  are  arguments  for  another  view.  They 
happen  not  to  convince  me.  But,  believing 
as  I  do,  I  am  more  interested  in  the  game 
than  in  principles.  To  me  it  is  simply  a 
game.  And  so,  I  like  to  see  good  players 
on  both  sides.  I'd  hate  to  have  you  come 
over  to  our  side.  God  knows,  your  side  is 
badly  enough  off  for  good  players." 

Helm's  smile  put  into  his  rugged  face  a 
touch  of  fanaticism — as  tremendous  earn 
estness  is  called  in  these  days  when  to  be 
interested  in  anything  but  accumulation  and 
appetite  is  regarded  as  eccentric.  Said  he: 

"My  side,  as  you  call  it,  doesn't  need  any 
181 


GEORGE    HELM 

players  at  all.  It  is  simply — to  change  the 
figure — the  irresistibly  sweeping  current.  I 
am  swimming  with  it,  you  against  it." 

Sayler  surprised  him  by  saying  reflect 
ively: 

"I've  thought  of  that.  Sometimes  I  be 
lieve  it." 

"The  right  thing — the  thing  that's  in  ac 
cord  with  progress,"  said  Helm,  "doesn't 
need  champions.  The  rainstorm  doesn't 
need  umbrellas.  But  the  men  who've  got  to 
go  out  in  it — they  do." 

Sayler  was  admiring  Helm's  manner.  It 
was  not  the  manner  of  the  condemned  man 
— at  least,  if  it  was,  it  was  that  of  a  con 
demned  man  of  the  type  that  tranquilly  ac 
cepts  the  inevitable.  Yet  Sayler  knew  that 
Helm  was  moving  consciously  toward  one 
of  those  crises  that  put  the  souls  of  men  to 
the  cruelest  test.  Sayler  understood  him 
thoroughly  now,  understood  the  strong  and 
182 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

tenacious  emotions  that  lay  hid,  or  rather 
lay  unexposed  to  any  but  expert  eyes,  be 
neath  the  surface  look  of  the  homely  provin 
cial  man — provincial  now,  rather  than  bu 
colic,  as  he  had  been  when  he  first  burst 
upon  the  astonished  and  amused  town  of 
Harrison,  with  his  strange  red  beard,  and 
his  much-tailed  cheap  broadcloth.  "How 
this  man  could  love  a  cause  or  a  wo 
man!"  thought  the  sentimental  over-lord 
of  bosses  and  machines.  "But,"  he  add 
ed,  "neither  is  appreciative — or  worth  lov 
ing." 

Where  Sayler  fell  short  of  greatness  was 
in  that  near-sightedness  which  prevented 
him  from  seeing  the  big  truths  that  domi 
nate  the  horizon  of  life — such  truths  as  that 
the  high  happiness  is  not  of  the  give-and- 
take  variety  but  is  the  capacity  for  sheer 
giving.  The  deep  and  serene  joy  of  Helm, 
secure  from  all  surface  storms,  was  the 
183 


GEORGE    HELM 
possession  of  a  nature  capable  of  giving. 

Helm  had  not  accomplished  his  only  ob 
ject.  He  had  simply  convinced  Sayler  of 
his  value,  not  in  the  least  of  his  inflexibility. 
Sayler  prided  himself  on  thorough  knowl 
edge  of  human  nature.  Convictions  were, 
in  his  opinion,  merely  the  creatures  of  cir 
cumstances.  Change  Helm's  circumstances, 
change  his  outlook  upon  the  world  from  the 
uncomfortable  to  the  comfortable,  and  he 
would  become  a  tower  of  strength  for  the 
existing  order,  for  the  guardianship  of  the 
masses  by  the  upper  class — a  service  for 
which  the  masses  ought  to  be  glad  to 
pay  with  part  of  their  only  asset,  their 
labor. 

At  the  suburban  house  he  had  taken  for 
that  legislature  session,  Sayler  put  Helm — 
not  into  the  library;  he  was  too  tactful  to 
make  such  a  blunder  as  to  give  him  the 
reminiscent  surroundings  of  the  previous 
184 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

evening — but  into  a  home-like  little  smok 
ing-room,  next  to  the  billiard  room.  Then 
he  went  in  search  of  Eleanor. 

Not  often  is  a  man  able  to  gratify  so 
many  widely  differing  tastes  as  was  Sayler 
by  bringing  together  Helm  and  Eleanor.  It 
pleased  his  natural  amiability,  his  senti 
mentality,  his  love  of  mischief,  his  passion 
for  political  scheming,  his  impatience  with 
the  pompous  and  wearisome  pretensions  of 
her  father,  and  several  other  minor  tastes. 
Perhaps,  as  he  entered  the  upstairs  sitting- 
room  where  Eleanor  was  giving  orders  to 
her  maid,  amiability  was  uppermost  in  his 
mind.  Amiability  was  one  of  his  strongest 
traits;  it  is  always  a  strong  trait  in  the  char 
acters  of  politicians,  and  expands  with  use 
and  with  pretense.  Said  he  when  the  maid 
had  gone: 

"George  Helm  is  down  stairs." 
Before  she  could  control  herself,  she  had 
185 


GEORGE    HELM 

betrayed  herself  by  looking  wildly  round  to 
escape. 

Sayler  ignored  and  went  tranquilly  on: 

"I  told  him  I  was  sure  you'd  be  glad  to 
see  him.  I  know  what  a  good  judge  of  char 
acter  you  are.  You  must  have  seen  what  a 
remarkable  man  he  is — about  the  strongest 
I've  come  across,  among  the  younger  men. 
He'll  be  nominated  for  governor  next  fall 
—and  elected,  I  suspect.  And  he'll  go 
up — and  up.  There's  the  sort  of  man  you 
ought  to  marry,  Eleanor." 

"I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody,"  cried 
she  with  the  pettish  anger  of  a  child. 

Sayler  made  mental  note  of  this  sign  of 
nervous  tension,  and  proceeded: 

"You  are  always  saying  that  a  husband 
who  had  already  arrived  would  be  uninter 
esting  in  comparison  with  one  who  had  the 
makings  of  a  career  in  him,  and  whom  the 
wife  could  help — could  work  with,  and  go 
186 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

up  with.  Here's  your  chance — and  as  good 
a  one  as  ever  was  offered  a  woman." 

Eleanor  was  listening — was  looking  at 
the  wily  schemer  with  wistful  eyes.  "You're 
not  joking?"  said  she. 

"I'm  disappointed  in  you,"  said  Sayler. 
"You're  not  so  big  or  so  clever  as  I  fan 
cied.  You're  just  ordinary  woman,  after 
all." 

Eleanor  blushed,  and  her  eyes  sank. 

"I  thought  you  were  big  enough  to  see 
him/'  proceeded  Sayler.  "But  you  saw  only 
what  you  shallow  women  are  able  to  see — 
the  fit  of  his  clothes,  the  absence  of  a  valet, 
the  lessons  in  manners  he  has  yet  to  learn 
and  will  learn  soon  enough.  You  don't 
want  the  man  with  the  career  to  make.  You 
want  the  ready-made  man.  You  want  to 
have  nothing  to  do  but  shine  by  his  light, 
be  his  trivial  ornament  and  plaything.  Oh, 
you  women!"  He  laughed  with  good- 
187 


GEORGE    HELM 

humored  mockery.    "What  frauds  you  are 
—and  how  little  you  count  for." 

"I  am  engaged  to  him,"  said  Eleanor 
quietly — with  a  look  that  ludicrously  min 
gled  pride  and  fear  and  apology. 

Sayler  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "An  im 
pulse  you've  repented,"  said  he. 

"I  think  I  must  have  been  crazy,"  said 
she. 

"I  think  he  must  have  been  crazy,"  re 
torted  Sayler.  "But  he  has  come  to  his 
senses.  He's  here  to  release  you." 

Eleanor's  eyes  flashed. 

"He  was  caught  for  the  moment  by  your 
looks,"  Sayler  went  on,  with  quick  raillery. 
"But  he  is  too  intelligent  to  be  ruled  by 
such  an  impulse.  Shallow  men  are,  but  not 
such  men  as  George  Helm.  They  assign 
women  their  proper  place  in  the  life  of  a 
man  with  something  to  do  in  the  world  and 
the  ability  to  do  it."  Sayler's  raillery  veered 
188 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

to  a  sarcasm  none  the  less  stinging  for  its 
cloak  of  politeness  and  good  humor.  "You 
sized  him  up — and  accepted  him.  As  soon 
as  he  sized  you  up — you  under  the  glamor 
of  that  charming  exterior  of  yours  and  that 
very  deceptive  cleverness — as  soon  as  he  saw 
you,  he  wanted  to  release  you." 

The  girl's  beautiful  face,  frankly  express 
ing  her  emotions,  gave  Sayler  the  pleasure 
of  delighting  in  his  skill  as  a  player  upon 
that  interesting  instrument,  human  nature. 
A  woman — especially  a  young  woman- 
brought  up  in  the  false  education  custom 
imposes  upon  our  comfortable  classes, 
rarely  has  the  intelligence  clearly  to  distin 
guish  a  formable  man  in  his  early  form 
ative  period.  Or,  if  her  woman's  instinct 
for  the  real  thing  in  manhood  does  by 
chance  lead  her  aright,  the  courage  to  act 
is  lacking.  Eleanor  had  seen  the  man  in 
George  Helm — a  degree,  a  kind  even,  of 
189 


GEORGE    HELM 

manliness  which  she  recognized  as  unique. 
But  she  had  acted  upon,  had  yielded  to  only 
his  peculiar,  his  irresistible  physical  charm 
for  her.  Who,  looking  at  his  rough  and 
rugged  exterior  and  hers  so  fine  and  deli 
cate,  would  have  suspected  the  possibility  of 
the  existence  of  such  a  charm?  She  would 
not  have  admitted  to  any  one — least  of  all 
to  herself — that  the  male  exterior  that  best 
pleased  her  was  not  the  "polished  gentle 
man,"  the  flower  of  culture,  but  one  exactly 
its  opposite — primitive,  rough  of  skin,  di 
rect  and  crude  of  manner.  If  Helm  had 
been  brutal  she  would  have  loathed  him. 
But  he  was  so  gentle  and  tender — and  what 
wonderful  eyes,  and  what  a  magic  voice! 

Sayler  laughed  to  himself.  Here  again 
was  an  instance  of  a  phenomenon  he  amused 
himself  by  observing  as  he  strolled  through 
life.  Time  spent  by  a  man  in  primping  to 
catch  a  woman,  unless  she  had  been  thor- 
190 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

oughly  vulgarized  and  snobified,  was  time 
wasted.  He  would  better  have  spent  it  on 
training  his  voice. 

Said  Eleanor:  "Of  course  I'll  release 
him.  I  was  going  to  write  him  from  home. 
Do  you  think  I'd  best  see  him?  Won't  I 
spare  him  pain—"  She  flushed,  as  Sayler 
began  to  smile—-  "I  don't  mean  that  he  es 
pecially  cares  about  me.  Simply  that  he'll 
be  terribly  embarrassed." 

"Oh,  if  you're  afraid"  said  Sayler,  "you 
can  send  down  some  excuse." 

"That  would  be  cowardly,"  said  Eleanor 
promptly,  "and  insulting  to  him." 

"He's  in  the  little  room  off  the  billiard 
room,"  said  Sayler,  departing. 

Curiously  enough,  it  was  not  Helm  but 
Eleanor  who  was  embarrassed  when  they 
were  face  to  face.  Her  lips  were  burning — 
the  lips  he  had  kissed  so  tenderly  yet  so 
passionately.  What  a  strong,  simple  man 
IQI 


GEORGE    HELM 

of  a  man!  If  she  had  given  way  to  her  im 
pulse,  she  would  have  burst  out  crying  and 
flung  herself  into  those  long  arms  of  his 
that  had  seemed  to  enfold  her  against  all 
the  ills  of  life.  She  could  not  meet  the 
gentle,  sad  look  those  magnetic  eyes  of  his 
bent  upon  her. 

Said  he: 

"Miss  Clearwater,  I've  come  to  do  what 
I  know  you  want  me  to  do.  I've  come  to 
release  you." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  stammeringly, 
without  looking  up. 

"I  don't  know  what  possessed  me.  I  took 
advantage  of — of  your  kindness  and  liking. 
I  hope  you'll  forgive  me." 

"I  knew  you  didn't  mean  what  you  said," 
murmured  she,  meaning  nothing  but  sim 
ply  trying  to  prevent  a  painful  silence. 

"You're  mistaken  there,  ma'am,"  said 
he.  "I  spoke  from  my  heart.  I  love  you 
192 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

very  dearly.  I  don't  see  how  I'm  going  to 
get  along  without  you.  There's  only  one 
thing  in  the  world  that'd  be  harder." 

She  was  looking  at  him  now — was  look 
ing  at  his  rugged,  kind  face — the  face  of  a 
man  born  to  suffer  and  born  to  bear  without 
crying  out.  Such  a  lonely  man — one  of 
those  large,  simple,  lonely  souls.  Said  she: 

"I  meant  what  I  said  too.  Just  as  much 
as  you  did.  But — I — I — didn't  mean  to 
hurt  you." 

"You  haven't  hurt  me,  Miss  Clearwater," 
protested  he  earnestly.  "You've  done  me 
only  good — given  me  only  happiness.  I'll 
always  remember — last  night — and  it'll 
make  me  happy.  I  oughtn't  to  have  said 
what  I  did  about  your  letting  me  take  ad 
vantage  of  your  liking.  It  wasn't  the 
truth,  and  I  knew  it.  You  are  honest  and 
good — and  what  you  did  was  from  the 
heart." 

193 


GEORGE    HELM 

"As  nothing  I  ever  did  before,"  said  she. 

"But  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  the 
hardest  thing  of  all  would  be  for  us  to  be 
together.  We  ain't  in  any  way  suitable  to 
each  other.  You're  too  fine  and  delicate 
for  me." 

"Please  don't  say  that  sort  of  thing," 
cried  she.  "It  isn't  like  you — those  snob 
bish  ideas." 

A  puzzled  expression  came  into  his  face. 
Then  he  smiled  slightly.  "You  misunder 
stood,"  said  he.  "I  didn't  mean  exactly  that. 
I  meant  that  you  hadn't  been  brought  up 
right — according  to  my  notion.  So — you'd 
be  miserable  as  my  wife,  and  a  burden  on 
me.  Anyhow,  it  always  seemed  to  me  that 
I  wasn't  made  to  be  a  married  man.  The 
ladies  never  seemed  to  care  much  about  me, 
and  I  guess  that  got  me  into  the  way  of  ar 
ranging  to  get  along  without  them." 

As  he  stood  there,  rugged  and  powerful, 
194 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

his  sincere  face  made  tragic  by  the  look  of 
lonely  melancholy  that  was  habitual  to  it  in 
repose,  she  was  so  moved  that  she  knew  she 
ought  not  to  trust  herself  to  speak.  But  she 
did — and  her  voice  was  shaking  with  sobs 
as  she  said: 

"I  know  I'm  not  worthy  of  you.  I'm  so 
poor  that  I  haven't  anything  that  you  need. 
I'm  only  fit  for  a  very  inferior  sort  of  man. 
Oh,  how  vain  and  silly  I've  been — to  im 
agine  I  was  worth  a  man's  while." 

"Now,  I  didn't  mean  that — not  at  all," 
cried  he.  "I  don't  know  how  to  talk  to 
women." 

"Indeed  you  don't!"  retorted  she.  "You 
don't  understand  them,  at  all." 

"I  see  I've  offended  you,  Miss  Clear- 
water.  I  didn't  mean  to." 

"Don't  call  me  Miss  Clearwater,"  cried 
she  desperately.  He  had  not  moved,  but  she 
had — unconsciously — drawn  much  nearer 
195 


GEORGE    HELM 

to   him — almost  within  his   reach.     "And 
don't—  '  with   a   hysterical  little  laugh— 
"don't  call  me  ma'am." 

He  smiled  with  a  kind  of  grim  humor. 
"I  don't  see  that  it  matters  what  I  call  you," 
said  he,  "as  long  as  I  can't  call  you  mine." 

She  trembled.  "Oh,  wont  you  under 
stand?"  cried  she.  And  she  looked  at  him 
with  eyes  shining  with  passion. 

He  shook  his  head  slowly.  "Well— I 
must  be  going."  With  a  sudden  change  to 
a  look  of  terrific  power.  "If  I  stay  here  a 
minute  longer,  I'll  not  be  able  to  keep  my 
hands  off  you.  I  love  you,  Ellen — and  it's 
stronger  than  I  am." 

"Why  should  you  go?"  said  she,  boldly. 
Her  glowing  heart  told  her  it  was  no  time 
for  trifling,  for  maidenly  pretense  of  coy 
ness.  That  sort  of  game  was  all  very  well, 
with  men  who  understood  it — and  men  one 
didn't  especially  care  about.  But  this  man 
196 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

didn't  understand  it — and  he  was  tremen 
dously  worth  while.  Plain  speaking,  or  he 
would  be  lost  forever.  She  did  not  see  how 
she  was  to  marry  him;  but  to  lose  him— 
that  would  be  frightful.  "Why  should  you 
go?"  she  said  boldly.  "Don't  you  want  me, 
George?" 

He  put  his  hands  behind  his  back.  He 
grew  pale;  his  eyes  seemed  deeper  set  than 
ever. 

"No  man  ever  made  me  feel,  but  you," 
she  went  on.  "I  belong  to  you.  If  you 
cast  me  off- 
He  had  her  in  his  arms — not  because  of 
what  she  had  said  but  because  he  could 
withstand  no  longer.  "I've  gone  crazy 
again,"  he  said,  as  he  kissed  her — as 
she  kissed  him — "but  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  we  can't  be  anything  to  each 
other." 

"Don't    think    of    that,"    pleaded    she. 
197 


GEORGE    HELM 

"Let's  be  happy  while  we  can — and  let's 
hope." 

"There's  nothing  to  hope  for,"  said  he, 
drawing  away  from  her.  "I'm  ashamed  of 
myself.  I  love  you,  but  it  isn't  the  kind  of 
love  a  man  gives  a  woman  that  he  wants 
to  live  his  life  with." 

"Take  me,  George,"  said  she.  "I'll  be 
what  you  want.  You  can  teach  me.  I'll 
learn.  Don't  shut  affection  and  love  out  of 
your  life.  You  can't  be  half  the  man  with 
out  them  that  you'll  be  with  them.  Oh,  you 
don't  understand  women.  You  don't  know 
what  women  are  for — what  a  woman  is  for 
—what  your  woman  is  for  in  your  life." 

The  look  of  resolution  had  gone;  the 
look  of  melancholy  had  come  in  its  place. 

"I  know  we  can't  marry  right  away,"  she 

went  on.     "I've  got  a  lot  to  do,  first.    You 

are  poor  in  one  way,   and   I  in  another. 

We've  got  to  wait  and  work."    She  looked 

198 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

up  at  him,  smiling,  pleading,  her  hand 
touching  his  arm.  "Don't  you  think  it's 
worth  doing,  dear?" 

He  dropped  to  a  chair.  "I've  fooled  my 
self,"  he  said  gloomily.  "I  thought  I  was 
coming  here  to  give  you  up.  Instead,  I 
came  to  get  you." 

She  laughed  merrily,  her  delicate  hand 
tingling  as  it  touched  his  shock  of  hair  that 
grew  in  such  disorderly  fashion  yet  exactly 
suited  the  superb  contour  of  his  head.  Said 
she: 

"Well,  you've  got  what  you  came  for." 

He  smiled  grimly.  "How  am  I  going  to 
think  straight  and  do  what's  right  for  both 
of  us,  with  you  touching  me?" 

"You  don't  want  me  to  touch  you?" 

With  a  strong  sweeping  gesture,  he  drew 
her  against  him,  as  she  stood  beside  him, 
he  sitting. 

"You  know  we  might  as  well  say  we're 
199 


GEORGE    HELM 

going  to  wait  for  each  other,"  proceeded 
she.  It  is  astonishing— and  enlightening- 
how  well  women  argue  when  they  wish  to. 
"You  know  we'll  do  it,  anyhow.  You  won't 
marry  any  other  woman?" 

"There  isn't  but  one  woman  for  me,"  said 
he,  with  an  accent  that  thrilled  her. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  let  any  other  man 
touch  me?"  demanded  she. 

There  was  a  delightfully  ferocious  jeal 
ousy  in  the  sudden  tightening  of  the  arm 
about  her  waist.  He  said : 

"I  guess  we're  in  for  it,  Ellen." 
Her  arm  went  round  his  shoulders.    Said 
she  laughingly:     "Women  aren't  so  very 
hard  to  understand — are  they?" 

He  eyed  her  shrewdly.  "Not  when 
they're  willing  to  be  understood.  .  .  .  You 
are  sure  you  want  to  wait?" 

"I'm  sure  I've  got  to,"  replied  she, 
simply. 

200 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

He  suddenly  stood  up,  drawing  away 
from  her.  She  was  in  a  tremor  of  alarm — 
which  was  not  decreased  by  his  resolute  ex 
pression,  until  he  said: 

"I  must  get  to  work.  I've  got  to  hurry 
things.  You  understand,  you're  entirely 
free  until  I'm  able  to  come  for  you?" 

"If  it  helps  you  to  think  so,"  she  an 
swered.  "But — I'm  not  that  kind  of  girl, 
George." 

A  look  of  tenderness  flooded  her  and  he 
said:  "I  didn't  mean  that.  Of  course  you 
aren't.  You're — mine." 

And  she  was  crying  with  happiness. 

Sayler  understood  as  soon  as  he  saw  her 
face.  And  he  felt  that  he  had  won.  George 
Helm,  on  his  way  to  the  triumphant  class — 
was  it  not  a  fundamental  law  of  human  na 
ture  that  a  human  being  could  not  be  in  a 
class  without  becoming  of  it,  of  its  ideas, 
201 


GEORGE    HELM 

feelings,  attitude  toward  other  classes? 
George  Helm,  marrying  a  girl  of  the  tri 
umphant  class.  Could  he,  however  tena 
cious,  resist  the  influences,  the  subtle  in 
fluences,  insistent,  incessant,  unconsciously 
exerted,  unconsciously  yielded  to — the  in 
fluences  of  a  loved  wife  of  the  triumphant 
class  from  birth? 

"He  shall  be  the  next  governor  of  this 
state,"  Sayler  said  to  himself;  and  a  smile 
more  amiably  generous  than  his  never  glori 
fied  human  visage. 

Helm  saw  "Ellen"  only  three  times  in 
the  remainder  of  that  week,  and  then  for 
but  a  few  minutes.  He  set  to  work  with  an 
energy  that  made  his  previous  toiling  seem 
a  species  of  languor.  He  decided  that  Ellen 
had  been  right  when  she  told  him  he  did 
not  appreciate  the  part  of  woman  in  the 
life  of  man.  And  when  the  legislature  ad 
journed  he  went  on  a  tour  of  the  cities  and 
202 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

towns  and  villages  as  a  lecturer,  and  built 
for  himself  that  only  solid  fame — a  per 
sonal  fame  which  future  assaults  from  a 
subsidized  hostile  press  could  not  destroy. 
The  people  would  have  seen  him,  heard 
him,  looked  into  his  eyes,  touched  his  hand. 
Sayler,  away  from  the  scene,  and  kept  in 
formed  of  events  by  lieutenants  with  lieu 
tenant-brains,  did  not  get  the  true  meaning 
of  Helm's  tour,  but  assumed  that  making  a 
living  was  his  sole  object.  However,  if 
Sayler  had  known — had  even  been  able  to 
read  Helm's  thoughts,  he  would  not  have 
been  disturbed.  Circumstances  of  class- 
association  had  made  George  Helm  what 
he  was;  circumstances  of  class-association 
would  re-make  him. 

Nor  was  Hazelrigg  moved  to  suspicion 

by  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  boom  of 

Helm  for  governor  was  received,  as  soon 

as   launched — nor   by   Helm's   memorable 

203 


GEORGE    HELM 

campaign — nor  by  the  overturn  on  election 
day  that  swept  Helm  into  office  by  a  ma 
jority  such  as  the  Democrats  had  never 
dreamed  of.  In  Hazelrigg's  opinion  it  was 
all  clever  machine  manipulation  by  Sayler's 
men  of  the  Republican  machine  and  by 
himself  and  his  lieutenants.  Helm  had 
shown  himself  sensible  and  manageable  in 
everything  pertaining  to  the  practical  side 
of  the  campaign  work;  Hazelrigg  began  to 
suspect  there  was  a  secret  understanding  be 
tween  him  and  Sayler.  "That  man  Say- 
ler,"  said  Hazelrigg  to  himself,  with  a  grin, 
"he's  a  deep  one.  He's  the  best  in  the 
country  at  the  game." 

Helm  was,  of  course,  at  home  in  Harri 
son  for  the  election — was  at  Mrs.  Beaver's 
boarding  house,  in  the  attic  room  still, 
though  he  had  nearly  thirty-five  hundred 
dollars,  the  savings  from  the  lecture  tour. 
Mrs.  Beaver  had  tried  to  induce  him  to  take 
204 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

the  best  room  in  the  house,  at  the  attic  price 
if  that  would  be  an  inducement. 

"No,  thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Helm. 
"I'm  very  comfortable.  Why  should  I 
move?" 

Many  people  thought  this  sticking  to  his 
attic  was  shrewd  politics.  It  may  be  that 
a  desire  to  show  his  class  that  he  was  still 
with  them  had  something  to  do  with  his  re 
fusal  to  move.  But  the  chief,  the  deciding 
reason  was  the  one  he  gave.  He  had  lived 
in  that  little  room  long.  He  had  got  used 
to  it.  He  liked  it,  felt  at  home  in  it,  would 
have  felt  strange  without  it  to  come  home 
to  and  live  in.  Helm  was  one  of  those 
men — and  Sayler,  had  he  been  entirely 
great,  would  have  looked  into  this  before 
completing  his  estimate  of  his  character- 
Helm  was  of  those  men — and  there  are 
women  of  the  same  sort — who  care  nothing 
for  luxury,  even  for  the  comforts  that  soon 
205 


GEORGE    HELM 

seem  necessary  to  people  who  get  the  small 
est  chance  to  expand. 

To  him  heat  and  cold  were  matters  of 
indifference.  He  had  ploughed  and  mowed 
in  the  broiling  sun;  he  had  slept  under  thin 
covers,  with  snow  sifting  through  the  roof, 
had  brushed  the  snow  off  his  skin  when  he 
got  ready  to  rise.  He  had  eaten  all  kinds  of 
difficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  fried  food— 
and  had  not  known  what  he  was  eating,  or 
cared.  He  was  so  profoundly  inured  to 
hardship  that  he  was  unaware  of  it — and 
was  unaware  of  comfort  when  he,  by  chance, 
got  it.  Hardened  against  hardship;  hard 
ened  also  against  comfort  and  luxury.  That 
last  peculiarity  was  probably  the  most  sig 
nificant  factor  in  his  make-up.  Yet  no  one 
had  noted  it;  he  himself  not  only  had  not 
noted  it  but  never  would.  When  one  con 
siders  how  powerful  in  effect  upon  human 
character  is  love  of  the  softer  side  of  life, 
206 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 

and  desire  for  it  and  clinging  to  it  and  re 
specting  it  and  its  possessors,  one  begins  to 
comprehend  how  far-reaching  was  the  im 
portance  of  George  Helm's  unique  hardi 
ness. 

Eleanor  Clearwater  was  visiting  in  the 
hill  top  part  of  Harrison — was  visiting  the 
Hollisters,  where  she  could  stop  whenever 
she  wished,  and  as  long  as  she  wished,  with 
out  any  one's  thinking  of  the  matter.  Helm 
—regarded  with  respect  by  the  better  class 
at  Harrison,  now  that  he  was  so  high  in 
public  life — had  arranged  to  receive  the 
returns  at  Hollister's.  Bart  Hollister,  with 
out  a  suspicion  that  Eleanor  had  "man 
aged"  him,  invited  Helm — and  was  as 
astonished  as  pleased  by  his  prompt  accept 
ance.  So  sweeping  was  the  victory  that 
his  election  was  conceded  by  the  Repub 
licans  before  he  finished  supper  at  Mrs. 
Beaver's. 

207 


GEORGE    HELM 

"A  governor  gets  eight  thousand  a  year, 
doesn't  he?"  said  Miss  Shaler,  the  senti 
mental,  be-wigged  old  maid  of  the  board 
ing-house  circle.  "You'll  certainly  pick  on 
some  nice  girl  and  be  getting  married  now, 
Mr.  Helm." 

''Governor  Helm,"  corrected  Mrs.  Beav 
er,  proudly. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  there'll  soon  be  a  Mrs. 
Governor  Helm,"  said  Miss  Shaler,  with 
the  soft  hysterical  giggle  with  which  she 
accompanied  all  her  frequent  remarks  on 
the  one  subject  that  interested  her. 

Helm  surprised  them  all — threw  them 
into  a  ferment  of  curiosity — by  saying  with 
bold,  emphatic,  even  noisy  energy,  unbe 
lievable  in  so  shy  a  man: 

"Yes,  indeed,  ma'am.  She  and  I'll  be 
inaugurated  together." 

He  laughed  with  a  gayety  that  seemed  a 
little  foolish  in  a  grave  governor-elect.  He 
208 


THE    MATCH-MAKER 
gave  them  no  chance  to  devise  ways  round 
the  inflexible  rule  against  direct  questions 
as  to  that  one  subject.     He  rose  and  went 
forth  to  claim  his  bride. 


209 


SEEING  HER  FATHER 

ON  the  second  floor  of  the  Washing 
ton  house  of  George  Clearwater, 
lumber  king  and  United   States 
Senator,  there  was  a  small  room  whose  win 
dows  commanded  the  entrance.    They  gave 
upon  one  of  those  useless  and  never  used 
balconies  wherewith  architects  strive  to  con 
ceal  the  feebleness  of  their  imagination  and 
the  poverty  of  their  invention.    Of  that  par 
ticular  balcony  some  facetious  congressman 
said  that  Clearwater  might  one  day  find  it 
convenient — "when    he    needs    a    place    to 
stand  and  explain  to  the  mob  how  he  hap 
pens  to  be  so  rich."    The  remark  got  round 
to  Clearwater,  and  he  never  looked  at  the 
210 


SEEING  HER  FATHER 
little  balcony  without  recalling  it.  The 
multimillionaire,  constantly  enveloped  by 
his  crowd  of  sycophants,  soon  tends  to  be 
come  paranoiac,  soon  fancies  that  everybody 
is  thinking  about  him  all  the  time — about 
him  and  his  money,  which  are  one  and  the 
same  thing,  for  he  feels  that  he  is  his  money 
and  his  money  he.  Also,  as  his  dominant 
passion  has  always  been  wealth,  he  assumes 
that  it  is  the  universal  passion  raging  in  all 
hearts  as  firmly  as  in  his;  that  therefore  he 
must  be  the  object  of  malignant  envy;  that 
those  myriad  eyes  ever  fixed  upon  him  are 
as  covetous  as  his  own.  Thus  Clearwater 
took  that  facetious  remark  seriously — read 
the  distorted  tales  of  the  French  revolution, 
discussed  the  ferocity  and  restlessness  of  the 
masses  quite  as  if  he  had  never  been  a  farm 
hand,  one  of  those  same  masses,  and  had 
never  known  the  truth  about  them — their 
ass-like  patience,  their  worm-like  meekness. 

21  I 


GEORGE    HELM 

He  was  looking  at  this  balcony  and  was 
thinking  of  the  "menacing  popular  unrest" 
when  George  Helm's  name  was  brought  up 
to  him.  He  was  still  looking  and  thinking 
when  Helm  himself  entered  the  small  room. 
At  the  sound  of  his  step,  Clearwater  turned 
and  greeted  him  with  friendly  constraint. 
Helm  looked  wretched  with  embarrass 
ment. 

"Ah — Mr.  Helm — pardon  me,  Governor 
Helm,"  said  Clearwater  who  had  long  since 
effaced  all  traces  of  the  farm  hand  and  of 
the  stages  intermediate  to  his  arrival  at 
the  American  business  man's  heaven,  the 
plutocracy.  "Much  has  happened  since  we 
met  last  winter." 

Much  had  indeed  happened,  but  the  only 
blessed  thing  of  it  Helm  could  remember 
at  the  moment  was  the  collar  he  had  been 
beguiled  into  buying^  that  morning.  It 
was  too  high  for  him,  and  it  squeaked.  Also, 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

Helm  had  on  a  new  suit  of  clothes;  he  had 
bought  it  only  a  few  days  before.  He  had 
not  yet  got  used  to  it,  but  it  looked  as  if  he 
had  slept  in  it.  That  was  the  way  clothes 
always  acted  with  George — and  being 
elected  governor  had  made  no  change.  In 
answer  to  the  senator's  amiable  remark  he 
managed  to  utter — with  a  violent  squeak 
and  creak  of  the  collar — a  timid  "Yes." 

"It  is  no  small  honor  to  be  the  youngest 
governor  in  the  United  States,"  pursued 
Clearwater.  "Won't  you  sit  down?" 

George  looked  at  him  as  if  "sit  down" 
were  a  new  and  puzzling  idea  to  him.  Then 
he  looked  about  at  the  furniture  as  if  he 
had  small  and  wanting  confidence  in  it. 
However,  as  Clearwater  sat,  he  ventured 
a  nervous  imitation  and  drew  out  his  hand 
kerchief. 

A  great  misfortune — no,  a  fresh  calamity. 
The  handkerchief  had  been  bought  with 
213 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  collar.  It  did  not  squeak;  worse,  it 
rustled.  The  collar  creaked,  the  handker 
chief  rustled,  the  new  suit  caught  him  under 
the  arms. 

Said  Clearwater: 

"My  daughter — Eleanor — she  has — has 
rather  prepared  me  for  your  visit." 

George  feebly  echoed  Clearwater's  ami 
able  laugh. 

"Senator  Sayler,  too — he  has  put  in  a 
good  word  for  you.  He  is  a  great  friend 
of  yours — a  great  and  generous  admirer. 
He  predicts  a  future  for  you — a  dazzling 
future." 

Helm  began  to  murmur  a  reply,  but  the 
catch  in  his  coat  seemed  somehow  to  have 
involved  his  vocal  cords.  He  put  the  rus 
tling  handkerchief  away,  but  in  his  pocket 
it  still  rustled  like  a  mouse  in  a  waste-paper 
basket.  Helm's  murmurings  died  in  a  kind 
of  stifled  groan. 

214 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

"I  am  an  old-fashioned  American,"  con 
tinued  Clearwater,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
short  gray  beard  in  a  pompous  gesture  as  if 
this  confession  reflected  the  highest  credit 
upon  his  courage  and  upon  America.  "I 
believe  in  the  love  marriage.  I  am  glad  my 
daughter  has  chosen — and  has  been  chosen 
by — a  man  of  the  people,  a  rising,  ambitious 
man,  with  a  career  in  the  making." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  George. 

Clearwater  extended  a  cigar,  which 
George  took — helped  him  light  it — lit  one 
himself.  "A  very  mild  smoke,"  he  ex 
plained.  "I  have  Cisneros  make  it  up  for 
me  in  Havana  from  a  specially  selected  leaf. 
If  you'd  prefer  something  stronger?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  George. 

"Lord  Cuffingham — the  British  ambas 
sador — asked  me  to  let  him  have  a  box  to 
send  to  the  King.  Personally  I  have  no 
more  respect  for  a  king  than  I  have  for  a 
215 


GEORGE    HELM 

plain  American  citizen.    But  we  were  talk 
ing  about  your  wish  to  marry  my  daughter." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  George,  a  trifle  less  em 
barrassed,  now  that  the  cigar  relieved  him 
of  worry  about  his  large,  very  brown  and 
very  powerful  hands. 

"I  shall  confess  to  you,  Governor,  that 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  generous  words 
Senator  Sayler  spoke  in  your  behalf  I 
should  have  hesitated  about  giving  my 


consent." 


George  forgot  his  collar,  the  handker 
chief,  the  coat — all  his  embarrassments. 

"Your  speeches  in  the  legislature  last 
winter — such  report  of  them  as  I  got — and 
in  your  campaign — I  must  say  in  all  candor, 
Governor,  that  while  I  appreciate  the  ne 
cessity  of  pleasing  the  people,  of  soothing 
them  by  seeming  to  agree  with  them — still  I 
must  say  that  you — in  fact  at  times  you 
seemed  to  go  even  further  than — than  their 
216 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

demagogues,  in  assaults  upon  property,  and 
wealth  and  all  that  has  built  up  the  coun- 
try." 

Helm  was  leaning  forward  now,  his  el 
bows  upon  his  knees,  a  fascinating  look  in 
his  rugged  face,  in  the  kind  yet  somehow 
inflexible,  blue-gray  eyes. 

"However,"  continued  Clearwater,  "Say- 
ler  assures  me  that  you  are  a  sound,  safe 
man — that  you  have  nothing  of  the  dema 
gogue  in  you — that  you  stand  for  the  fine 
old  American  principle  of  freedom,  of  the 
utmost  opportunity." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  opportunity?" 
asked  George. 

Clearwater  frowned  slightly.    "I  mean- 
opportunity,"  said  he,  in  the  tone  of  one 
forbidding  further  questioning  as  imperti 
nence. 

George  settled  himself  back  in  his  chair 
with    a   long   sigh.      "I    see    that    Senator 
217 


GEORGE    HELM 

Sayler  has  been  too  kind  about  me,"  said 
he.  "He  has  given  you  a  false  impression 
of  me." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Clearwater 
curtly. 

His  look  and  his  voice  were  a  warning 
that  Helm  would  better  draw  back  if  he 
did  not  wish  to  provoke  a  wrath  that  had 
been  not  without  difficulty  soothed  by 
Sayler  and  Eleanor.  Helm  understood. 
His  eyes  had  never  been  kinder  or  gentler — 
or  more  direct — than  as  he  replied: 

"There  can  never  be  any  political  sym 
pathy  between  you  and  me,  Senator.  I 
have  made  my  fight  thus  far  along  the  lines 
I  believe  to  be  right.  I  have  not  said  more 
than  I  meant,  but  less." 

Clearwater    rose,    rage    flaming    in    his 

cheeks.    "I  suspected  so!"  he  cried.  "I  can't 

imagine  Sayler's  object  in  trying  to  deceive 

me — to  trick  me  into  admitting  to  my  fam- 

218 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

ily  one  of  this  new  breed  of  dangerous 
young  demagogues  who  want  to  substitute 
anarchy  and  socialism  for  the  republic  of 
the  fathers." 

He  glowered  at  George,  sitting  and  star 
ing  into  space,  the  look  of  tragedy,  of  pro 
found  melancholy  strong  upon  his  homely, 
gaunt  face.  He  went  on : 

"You  look  like  an  intelligent  man.  How 
can  you  fly  in  the  face  of  your  common- 
sense?  To  get  office,  to  lift  yourself,  you 
are  willing  to  rouse  the  ignorant  and  the 
idle  to  hate  and  to  assault  the  men  whom 
God  has  raised  up  to  develop  and  to  guard 
this  country!  I  was  poor  myself,  and  I  was 
anxious  to  get  up  in  the  world.  But  I'd 
rather  have  thrust  my  right  hand  into  the 
fire  than  have  lifted  it  against  my  country." 

George  Helm  heaved  another  long  sigh, 
rose  and  regarded  the  old  lumber  king 
sadly.  Said  he: 

219 


GEORGE    HELM 

"I  shaVt  argue  with  you,  sir.  We'd 
only  get  into  a  wrangle.  I  simply  couldn't 
allow  you  to  misunderstand  about  me." 

"Why  did  you  come  here,  at  all?"  de 
manded  Clearwater.  "Did  Sayler  fool  you, 
too?  Has  he  been  trying  to  make  us  both 
puppets  in  some  political  game  of  his? 
Why  should  he  wish  to  humiliate  me  by 
tricking  me  into  letting  my  daughter  marry 
a  demagogue?" 

Helm  flushed,  but  his  voice  was  gentle 
as  he  replied: 

"I  think  you're  unjust  to  Senator  Sayler, 
sir.  He  knew  that  your  daughter  and  I 
loved  each  other.  He  likes  both  of  us,  and 
he  knew  you'd  put  your  daughter's  happi 
ness  above  what  he  probably  regards  as  sim 
ply  a  difference  of  political  opinion." 

"Anarchy  and  socialism  aren't  political 
opinions,"  retorted  Clearwater.  "They're 
criminal,  sir,  criminal.  And  I  regard  any 

220 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

one  who  holds  the  ideas  you  profess — I  re 
gard  him  as  a  criminal.    He  is  a  criminal— 
an  inciter  of  riot  and  murder  and  theft." 

"No  doubt  you  are  honest  in  your  opin 
ions,  sir,"  said  George  with  quiet  dignity. 
"But  I  must  request  you  not  to  insult  me 
again.  I  shall  detain  you  only  a  moment." 

"I  can't  conceive  how  you  dared  aspire 
to  my  daughter.  Did  you  think  I  would 
be  impressed  by  your  being  a  governor?" 

Helm's  eyes  twinkled  humorously. 
"Hardly,"  said  he.  "They  say  that  you  own 
two  or  three  governors.  I  know  Sayler  owns 
nearly  a  dozen.  No,  Senator,  I  didn't  come 
to  you  as  a  public  man  but  just  as  a  chap 
who  loves  your  daughter  and  intends  to  do 
the  best  he  knows  how  to  make  her  not  re 
gret  having  married  him.  You  can  see  for 
yourself  that  I'm  not  pretty  to  look  at,  and 
haven't  the  graces  of  manner,  or  any  of 
those  things  to  recommend  me  to  a  lady.  I 
221 


GEORGE    HELM 

don't  know  why  she's  willing  to  take  me. 
So  far  as  my  side  of  it's  concerned,  of 
course,  as  soon  as  I  saw  her  I  couldn't  help 
wanting  her." 

Helm  was  so  ingenuous  and  winning  that 
in  spite  of  himself  Clearwater  was  molli 
fied  somewhat.  "I  guess  Sayler's  responsi 
ble  for  this,"  said  he,  with  a  grudging  gra- 
ciousness.  "Well — we've  found  him  out,  and 
as  there's  no  harm  done  we  can  laugh  at 
him." 

"Come  to  think  it  over,"  said  George,  "I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Sayler  didn't  have 
a  notion  in  the  back  of  his  head  that  if  he 
got  me  married  right  I'd  come  round — fall 
into  line  and  drop  my  principles." 

Clearwater  nodded.  "And  no  doubt  you 
will.  But  /  shall  not  permit  my  daughter 
to  be  used  for  any  such  purpose."  Very 
graciously,  after  the  manner  of  the  thor 
oughly  virtuous,  praising  the  feeble  and 

222 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

halting  efforts  of  a  young  fellow  man  essay 
ing  the  lower  reaches  of  the  path  of  virtue: 
"I  congratulate  you  on  your  honesty — on 
not  trying  the  unprincipled  game  of  hiding 
your  principles.  I  admire  an  honest  man. 
It  must  have  cost  you  a  struggle." 

"No,"  said  George,  "I  had  nothing  to  lose 
by  speaking  out.  You  are  the  courageous 
one,  sir — for  you  might  have  lost  your 
daughter — if  I  had  been  over  sensitive  and 
had  taken  up  your  hot  words." 

Senator  Clearwater  showed  that  he  was 
at  a  loss  to  understand.  Said  he: 

"At  any  rate,  it's  all  settled.  I  shall 
explain  to  my  daughter.  For  I  must  ask 
you  not  to  try  to  see  her  again." 

Helm  looked  at  him  vaguely. 

"It  would  only  cause  both  you  and  her 
pain,"  explained  Clearwater. 

"Yes,   it  will  distress  us  both  to  disre 
gard  your  advice,"  said  Helm. 
223 


GEORGE    HELM 

"My  advice?"  inquired  the  puzzled 
Clearwater. 

"You  are  advising  against  her  marrying 
me,  as  I  understand  it,"  explained  George. 
"Of  course,  we  may  be  mistaken,  but  we 
can't  see  it  that  way." 

Clearwater  was  so  astounded  that  his 
mouth  fell  open  and  gave  him  some  diffi 
culty  before  it  permitted  him  to  say: 

"Why— what  in  the  hell  do  you  mean?" 

"Now  look  here,  Senator,"  remonstrated 
Helm,  "what's  the  use  of  getting  excited? 
You  don't  want  to  lose  your  daughter. 
It's  me  you  don't  like.  Well — you  need 
never  see  me.  I'll  go  away  when  you  visit 
our  house,  and  she'll  visit  you  whenever  she 
wants  to  and  leave  me  behind.  Why 
shouldn't  we  get  along  peaceably?  She's 
your  only  child.  She's  all  you've  got.  It'll 
grieve  her  to  know  she's  going  against  your 
wishes.  Why  not  make  her  as  easy  as  you 
*  224 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 
can?    I  don't  expect  you  to  pretend  to  like 
me.     But  you  can  just  kind  of — pass  me 
over.    I'll  help." 

Clearwater,  warned  by  a  slight  vertigo, 
had  seated  himself.  Said  he  slowly : 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  ycu  think 
my  daughter  will  marry  you?" 

"Oh,  come  now,  Senator,"  pleaded 
George,  "you  know  how  it  was  when  you 
went  courting.  Would  your  wife  have  given 
you  up,  because  her  father  and  mother 
didn't  like  you?" 

"Enough  of  this,"  said  Clearwater 
quietly.  He  rose.  "I  wish  you  good  day, 
sir.  I  w^ish  you  to  understand  that  you  will 
not  see  my  daughter  again — that  she  will 
not  marry  you — that  if  she  did  I'd  cut  her 
off  without  a  cent.  As  you" — with  scathing 
contempt — "have  no  doubt  heard,  she  has 
some  property  of  her  own.  It  is  very  small 
— very  small,  sir.  And  I  have  control  of  it 
225 


GEORGE    HELM 

until  she  is  thirty — time  enough  to  starve 
her  out  and  to  spare,  as  she  knows— 

"Senator,"  interrupted  George,  "I  hope 
you  won't  say  these  things  to  her.  Do  them 
if  you  think  it  right.  I  shall  be  glad  if  you 
do,  as  I  don't  want  my  wife  beholden  to 
anybody  but  me.  Do  them,  Senator,  but 
don't  let  on  to  her.  She  might  feel  that  you 
didn't  love  her.  She  might — I  hate  to  say 
it,  sir — she  might  stop  loving  you  herself,  if 
she  thought  you  could  put  money  before 
love." 

"I  need  no  assistance  in  managing  my 
family,"  said  Clearwater,  in  cold  fury.  He 
bowed,  "Good  day,  sir." 

Helm  hesitated,  then  bowed  with  simple 
dignity  and  withdrew.  Clearwater  watched 
at  one  of  the  windows  until  he  saw  him 
walking  slowly  out  of  the  grounds  and 
down  the  street — tall  and  lean,  awkwardly 
dressed.  Said  Clearwater  aloud  with  an 
226 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

angry  sneer:  "He  looks  as  if  he  belonged 
at  the  servants'  entrance."  The  remark  was 
not  without  justification,  yet  Clearwater 
knew — and  the  knowledge  enraged  him— 
that  there  was  in  the  air  of  that  figure,  in  the 
expression  of  that  face,  a  quality,  far  re 
moved  from  the  menial,  or  even  the  humble. 
And  it  was  that  quality  that  made  the  arro 
gant  and  confident  old  man  a  little  nervous 
as  he  awaited  the  coming  of  the  daughter 
for  whom  he  had  sent  as  soon  as  Helm  dis 
appeared  round  the  corner. 

As  Eleanor  came  in,  radiant,  expectant, 
she  gave  a  quick  glance  round  and  ex 
claimed: 

"Why,  papa,  where's  George?" 
To  "papa"  George  had  up  to  this  time 
been  simply  what  one  man  is  to  another— 
simply   a  specimen  of   the   male  sex.      In 
this  case,  not  a  specimen  likely  to  appeal 
strongly   to   the  female  sex,   according   to 
227 


GEORGE    HELM 

Clearwater's  notion  of  female  likes  and 
dislikes  in  males.  But  Eleanor's  look  and 
tone  put  a  sudden  very  different  complexion 
on  the  matter.  Clearwater  abruptly  real 
ized  that  his  daughter — this  lovely,  delicate 
creature  of  fine  manners,  speech  and  rai 
ment — was  in  love  with  the  lanky,  baggily- 
dressed  fellow,  half  crank,  half  knave  and 
altogether  detestable. 

This  discovery,  thus  all  in  an  instant 
made  real  to  the  father,  instead  of  angering 
him,  threw  him  into  a  panic.  And  out  of 
panic,  with  its  chaos  of  fermenting  emo 
tions,  any  emotion  is  as  likely  to  emerge  as 
any  other.  No  one,  in  a  panic,  can  predict 
whether  he  will  emerge  furious  and  impla 
cable  or  trembling  and  abject.  The  reason 
for  the  panic  was  his  adoration  of  his  daugh 
ter.  Rarely  is  there  any  greater  intimacy 
between  father  and  daughter  than  friendly 
acquaintance.  But  almost  always  there  is 
228 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

a  tenacious   and  worshipful  admiration — 
which,  naturally,  forbids  the  frankness  of 
intimacy  because  each  fears  that  the  delu 
sion  of  the  other  would  be  impaired,  if  not 
destroyed,  should  the  truth  of  human  weak 
ness  come  out.     The  daughter  adores  the 
father  as  the  superior  type  of  the  superior 
sex;  the  father  adores  the  daughter  as  the 
embodiment  of  the  female  sex's  two  awe- 
inspiring  charms,  beauty  and  purity.  Clear- 
water  thought  his  daughter  the  most  beauti 
ful  woman  in  the  world,  and  an  angel  for 
purity— certainly,  such  purity  could  have 
no  place  in  the  mud-geyser  of  the  world  as 
he  knew  it.    And  he  was  now  in  terror  lest 
she,  idealist,  ignorant  of  the  realities,  should 
not  understand  his  attitude  toward  Helm. 
No  doubt  the  fellow  had  talked  his  theories 
to  her — and  they  were  just  the  sort  of  stuff 
that  would  appeal  to  idealism  and  worldly- 
ignorance. 

229 


GEORGE    HELM 

"Helm?"  said  Clearwater,  almost  as  nerv 
ous  as  George  had  been  with  his  squeak 
ing  collar  and  his  rustling  handkerchief. 
"Helm?  Oh— he's  gone." 

"But  I  told  him  to  send  for  me  as  soon 
as  you  and  he  had  finished." 

"We — that  is,  he .  Now,  Eleanor, 

you  must  trust  to  my  judgment  about 
pen." 

Eleanor  had  an  expression  different  from 
any  he  had  seen  before — in  her  face,  in 
any  one's  face.  "Father,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  that  made  him  quail,  though  it 
was  neither  loud  nor  in  any  other  ob 
trusive  way  emotional,  "what  did  you  say 
to  him?" 

"He  was  insulting,"  said  Clearwater. 
"He  insulted  me.  His  presence  was  an  in 
sult.  His  ideas  are  an  insult  to  us  both. 
Eleanor,  he  is  one  of  those  men  who  go  up 
and  down  the  country  denouncing  me  and 
230 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 
men  of  my  sort — all  the  leading  men  of  the 
country  as   robbers,   and   rousing  the   pas 
sions  of  the  poor  and  the  ignorant  against 


us." 


"You  mean  he's  a  Democrat  and  you  are 
a  Republican,"  said  Eleanor  angrily.  "But 
what  do  I  care  for  that?  I  can't  fall  in  love 
with  a  man  because  he's  a  Republican, 
papa." 

"He's  not  a  Republican,  nor  a  Demo 
crat,"  declared  Clearwater.  "There  are 
sane,  sound  men  in  both  parties,  and  both 
are  one  when  it  comes  to  questions  like  law 
and  order,  respect  for  the  courts— 

"Father,"  interrupted  the  girl,  "what  did 
you  say  to  George?  Did  you  send  him 
away?" 

"He  is  an  anarchist,  a  socialist — a — a 
demagogue.  He  insulted  me.  He " 

"What  did  he  say?"  she  again  inter 
rupted. 

231 


GEORGE    HELM 

"As  I've  told  you,  he  has  attacked  me — 
my  sort  of  men — with  lies  and  filth.  He 
has " 

"What  did  he  say  here — a  while  ago — 
in  this  room?" 

Clearwater,  thus  cornered,  dared  not 
wander  too  far  from  the  truth.  "He  said 
plainly  that  he  meant  all  he  had  said— 
that  he  had  spoken  less  than  he  thought. 
He  refused  to  retract  or  modify.  He 
was " 

"How  like  him!"  cried  Eleanor,  with 
shining  eyes.  "Do  you  wonder  that  I  love 
him,  papa!" 

Clearwater  was  taken  completely  aback. 
"You  approving  insults  to  me!"  exclaimed 
he. 

"You  know  you'd  have  despised  him  if 
he  had  weakened." 

"Eleanor,  you   don't  understand.     This 
man's  conduct  is  criminal — is  a  grave  of- 
232 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

fense  against  society — is  an  insult  to  me — 
a  menace  to  our  property— 

"Don't  try  to  scare  me,  papa,"  laughed 
the  girl.  "You  can't.  Maybe  I  don't 
understand  his  political  principles.  What 
do  I  care  for  them?  It's  a  woman's  busi 
ness  to  love  and  then  to  trust.  I  love  him. 
So — whatever  he  says  goes  with  me,  you 
foolish  old  papa."  And  she  threw  her  arms 
round  his  neck  and  kissed  him  and  mussed 
his  carefully  arranged  beard  with  her 
chin. 

Clearwater  had  the  shrewd  man's  knowl 
edge  of  human  nature,  was  not  without 
insight  into  his  daughter.  It  is  a  mistake 
to  think  that  men  are  fooled  because  they 
let  themselves  be  cajoled;  they  are  fooled, 
usually,  because  they  wish  to  be,  because 
their  vanity  or  their  hope  or  their  affection 
gives  their  cajoler  the  aid  without  which 
he — or  she — would  fail.  Clearwater  was 
233 


GEORGE    HELM 

well  aware  that  Eleanor  was  artfully  dodg 
ing  the  real  issue.  But  how  does  knowledge 
that  his  beloved  daughter  is  lovingly  artful 
aid  a  loving  father  to  corner  her  and  bring 
her  to  ways  of  sense  and  reason? 

"Let  my  beard  alone,"  said  Clearwater 
fretfully.  But  no  one  would  have  been  de 
ceived;  under  the  fretfulness  there  was  the 
male,  ashamed  of  his  weakness  of  affection 
for  the  female — but  none  the  less  weak. 

Eleanor  laughed  and  persisted  in  the 
mussing  and  mauling. 

"You  can't  wheedle  me,  miss,"  declared 
he. 

"Of  course  I  can,"  laughed  she.  "You 
told  me  I  could  have  him." 

"I  didn't  know  what  kind  of  man  he  was. 
Now  that  I  know,  I  forbid  it." 

She  kissed  him.  "Then  I'll  marry  him, 
anyhow.  I've  simply  got  to  do  it,  papa. 
And — as  Mr.  Sayler  says,  if  you  were  run- 
234 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

ning  for  vice-president,  or  anything,  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  to  have  a  man  like 
George  compelled  to  keep  quiet." 

"He'd  attack  me  just  the  same." 

"Then  he'd  do  you  good.  People  would 
simply  think  less  of  him  for  coming  out 
against  his  wife's  father." 

"I'll  not  have  such  a  character  in  my 
family,"  cried  Clearwater  desperately.  He 
pushed  his  daughter  away.  "I  can't  under 
stand  your  wanting  him.  After  all  the 
money  that's  been  spent  on  your  education, 
all  the  pains  that's  been  taken!" 

"I  should  think  you'd  look  on  my  educa 
tion  as  a  tearing  success,"  replied  she.  "It 
seems  to  have  taught  me  to  appreciate  a 
man.  But  the  education  isn't  responsible 
for  that.  It's  because  I'm  your  daughter. 
How  could  I  help  despising  the  men  who 
couldn't  do  anything  for  themselves,  who 
owe  everything  to  others,  who  live  like  fleas 
235 


GEORGE    HELM 

on  a  dog,  papa — instead  of  being  strong  and 
rising  up  and  up?    Like  you,  papa!" 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Clearwater.  "I 
never  was  a  demagogue,  an  inciter  of  class 
hatreds,  a  fermenter  of  envy — telling  the 
shiftless  and  thoughtless- 
She  shook  her  finger  laughingly.  "Now, 
papa!  Be  careful!  I've  read  some  of  your 
early  speeches — when  you  were  running  for 
Congress  and  starting  unions  in  the  logging 
camps." 

The  red,  so  difficult  to  bring  to  old  cheeks, 
so  slow  to  spread,  crept  over  his  whole  face. 
It  is  fortunate  that  his  daughter  did  not 
know  the  whole  of  the  why  of  that  red — the 
deep-hidden  story  of  treason  to  the  people 
who  had  believed  in  him,  of  viler  preceding 
treason  to  his  honester  self. 

"I  was  an  ignorant  fool  in  those  days," 
shuffled  he.     "And  this  fellow  isn't.     He's 
intelligent  and  cunning." 
236 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

She  was  too  wise  to  linger  upon  this  dan 
gerous  ground  of  politics,  once  she  had 
scored.  Away  she  sped,  with  a  delightfully 
crafty,  "I  do  believe  you  think  he's  after 
my  money,  father.  I  can  see  how  you  might 
think  so.  And  you're  right  to  convince 
yourself.  Yes,  I  understand.  You're  put 
ting  him  to  the  test.  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  the 
puzzled  father. 

She  was  laughing  gayly.  "Yes — I  see  it 
all.  Go  ahead,  papa.  Oppose  all  you  like. 
Make  him  feel  that  you  will  cut  me  off  if 
I  marry  him.  I  know  him.  I  know  he 
doesn't  need  that  test.  But  I  can't  blame 
you  for  not  trusting  him.  You  see,  you 
don't  love  him — yet." 

Clearwater  was  dumfounded.  To  have 
his  flank  thus  neatly  turned!  And  that,  just 
as  he  was  about  to  deliver  the  final  and  de 
cisive  blow — the  threat  of  cutting  her  off. 
237 


GEORGE    HELM 

He  gathered  himself  together  as  best  he 
could,  whipped  up  his  anger  and  said: 
"But  I  shall  do  that  very  thing." 
She  looked  at  him  with  sudden,  touch- 
ingly    sweet    incredulity.      "Oh,    no— you 

couldn't,  papa.    Not  that  I — not  that  we 

want  anything  from  you  but  your  love. 
But  you  couldn't  make  a  base  thing  like 
money  a  test  of  the  love  between  you  and 


me." 


His  eyes  shifted.  When  a  father  seriously 
makes  the  threat  to  cut  off  a  son  or  a  daugh 
ter,  however  great  the  reflection  upon  the 
father,  it  is  greater  upon  the  son  or  daugh 
ter.  Eleanor  Clearwater  had  lived  under 
her  father's  eye  all  the  years  of  her  life.  He 
knew  her — knew  her  character — respected 
it,  feared  it,  as  baser  character  ever  fears 
finer.  And  stronger  than  his  aversion  to  the 
George  Helm  sort  of  man,  stronger  than 
his  passion  for  autocratic  rule,  stronger  even 
238 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

than  his  reverence  for  his  wealth,  was — of 
necessity — his  fear  lest  his  daughter  should 
justly  estimate  him,  should  lose  her  delu 
sion  as  to  his  true  nature. 

Our  conduct  is  less  a  measure  of  ourselves 
than  of  those  about  us — those  whose  opin 
ions  we  respect,  those  of  whom  we  feel  the 
need.  George  Clearwater  gave  up  the 
struggle.  Eleanor  had  won,  not  because  her 
father  doted  upon  her — for  mere  doting 
readily  turns  toward  hate  when  its  object 
offends — but  because  he  respected  her. 
Said  he: 

"If  you  marry  him,  it's  without  my  con 
sent.  It's  against  my  wishes." 

His  tone  of  gloomy  resignation  told  her 
that  she  had  won.  She  was  astonished;  for 
from  time  to  time  there  had  been  in  his 
voice  a  note  that  set  her  to  quivering  with 
alarm  lest  she  should  have  to  face  the  alter 
native  of  breaking  with  him  or  with  George 
239 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  in  choos 
ing  Helm  she  would  show  herself  selfish, 
unappreciative  of  all  her  father  had  done 
for  her  and  would  make  her  love  for  him 
look  a  poor  feeble  unmasked  pretense.  Said 
she  demurely: 

"You'll  let  us  marry  here?" 

He  made  an  angry  gesture.  "I  don't 
want  a  scandal." 

"You  being  rich,"  she  went  on  adroitly, 
"a  story  that  you  were  snobbish  would  be 
put  out,  if  we  married  anywhere  else." 

"I  don't  care  a  damn  what  people  think 
or  say,"  retorted  he  so  violently  that  she 
knew  her  shot  had  penetrated. 

"But  I  do,"  replied  she.  "I  want  you  to 
be  vice-president,  and  I'd  hate  to  be  even 
indirectly  the  cause  of  anything  that  might 
interfere.  You  remember,  Mr.  Sayler  said 
my  marrying  George  Helm  would  make 
you  more  attractive  as  a  candidate." 
240 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

"You  weren't  thinking  of  marrying  any 
ways  soon!"  cried  he,  angry  and  alarmed. 

"George  wants  us  to  be  inaugurated 
together.  He  goes  in  the  first  of  January." 

Clearwater  began  to  pace  the  room  with 
quick,  nervous  steps.  "That  means  right 
away,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  no,  papa.    In  about  two  weeks." 

He  stopped  before  her.  "And  what's  to 
become  of  me?" 

"Why,  I'll  be  with  you  almost  as  much 
as  ever.  We've  always  been  separated 
most  of  the  time — your  fault,  not  mine. 
And  I'm  not  going  to  take  Aunt  Louisa 
away  from  you." 

"You  are  a  heartless  girl!" 

"Father,  for  several  years  you've  been 
urging  me  to  marry.  I've  heard  you  tell 
dozens  of  people  that  you  wanted  to  see 
your  grandchildren." 

At  the  thought  of  his  grandchildren  the 
241 


GEORGE    HELM 

children  of  George  Helm,  Clearwater  be 
came  purple  and  abruptly  left  the  room. 
Also,  he  had  been  urging  Eleanor  to  marry. 

About  an  hour  later,  as  he  was  at  the 
front  door  to  motor  to  the  club,  he  met 
George  Helm  entering.  He  was  so  ab 
sorbed  in  the  attempt  to  conceal  his  anger 
and  hatred  behind  a  manner  of  stiff  polite 
ness  that  he  did  not  really  look  at  Helm, 
therefore  did  not  see  Helm's  frigid  bow  far 
more  ominous  than  his  own  lack  of  cordial 
ity.  "Impudent  adventurer,"  he  muttered 
—when  there  was  not  a  possibility  of 
Helm's  hearing  any  faint  rumble  of  that 
carefully  suppressed  wrath.  He  cursed  his 
weakness  of  paternal  affection,  marveled  at 
his  unaccountable  lack  of  the  courage  to  rise 
up  and  put  down  the  whole  abominable 
business. 

At  the  club  he  took  into  his  confidence 
old  Senator  Tingley,  his  bosom  friend  and 
242 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

his  partner  in  many  a  stealthy  business  ad 
venture  which  neither  would  have  cared  to 
have  had  visited  by  any  ray  of  the  sunlight 
of  publicity.  Business  aside — how  often  it 
is  necessary  to  leave  out  of  account  a  man's 
way  of  making  his  money! — business  aside, 
Tingley  was  a  kindly  old  patriarch,  as  ge 
nial  as  wise.  Said  he: 

"George,  it's  the  same  old  story." 

"He's  got  her  hypnotized,"  said  Clear- 
water. 

"Don't  talk  like  a  child,"  replied  Tingley. 
"Nature's  got  her  hypnotized.  You  could 
have  prevented  this  if  you'd  married  her 
off  pretty  soon  after  she  got  to  the  marriage 
able  age.  She's  simply  obeying  nature  that 
refuses  to  be  put  off  any  longer.  We  parents 
are  damn  fools  not  to  realize  that  our  chil 
dren,  even  our  pure,  innocent  daughters,  are 
human." 

Clearwater  did  not  see  how  to  deny 
243 


GEORGE    HELM 

Tingley's  unromantic  but  impressively  sim 
ple  and  sensible  explanation.  However,  he 
felt  that  he  owed  it  to  his  daughter's  inno 
cence  to  say  something  in  mitigation.  Said 
he: 

"She  seems  to  be  in  love  with  him." 
"And  probably  will  be  after  they're 
married.  Certainly  will  be,  if  he  knows 
his  business  at  all.  He'll  have  the  inside 
track  and  it'll  be  his  fault  if  he  don't  con 
vince  her  that  he,  the  only  man  she  ever 
knew,  is  a  wonder  of  a  special  creation. 
She'll  never  suspect  that  all  men  are  pretty 
much  the  same." 

Clearwater  winced  before  the  frankness 
of  his  friend,  too  old  to  make  pretenses  and 
too  wise  to  believe  them.    Said  he: 
"Aaron,  how  can  I  break  it  up?" 
"Well — in  a  nominating  convention,   if 
you    want    to   beat   a    popular    candidate, 
you've  got  to  have  a  man  to  beat  him  with. 
244 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

It's  the  same  way  in  these  heart  matters. 
Find  another  man — one  she'll  like  better." 

Clearwater  groaned.  "These  damned 
young  nincompoops  you  find  round  in 
society!"  he  cursed.  "Really  I  can't  blame 
her  for  taking  the  first  fellow  with  jump 
and  ginger." 

Old  Tingley  nodded.  "The  altar  men — 
the  fellows  that'll  marry  young  girls — do 
seem  to  be  mighty  poor  pickings.  At  least 
here  in  Washington — in  'our  set.' ' 

When  Helm  entered  the  presence  of 
Eleanor  his  manner  had  lost  its  frigidness 
and  reserve  but  none  of  the  gravity.  She 
flung  herself  into  his  arms,  clung  to  him 
passionately  with  a  complete  giving  up  of 
herself  to  her  love  for  him.  He  held  her, 
he  caressed  her  gently,  he  showed  in  every 
look  and  gesture  how  deeply  he  loved  her. 
Yet — if  she  had  not  been  so  intoxicated  by 
her  emotions,  she  would  have  felt,  would 
245 


GEORGE    HELM 

have  seen  that  this  peculiar  young  man  not 
only  was  master  of  her  love  but  also  was 
master  of  his  own. 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't  let  anything  come 
between  us,"  said  she.  "George,  how 
wonderful  it  is  to  love  a  man  one  simply 
couldn't  doubt.  Do  you  feel  that  way 
about  me?" 

"That's  why  we're  engaged,"  said  he. 
"That's  why  we've  got  to  marry." 

"Father'll  get  over  this,"  she  assured  him. 
Helm  shook  his  head.  "No;  he'll  be 
worse  and  worse — more  against  me.  It 
can't  possibly  be  otherwise.  When  you  go 
with  me,  you  leave  him." 

"Let's  not  talk  about  that!"  cried  she. 
"Since  I've  got  to  marry  you — the  rest 
doesn't  matter." 

"But  you've  thought  about  it?"  insisted 
he.  "You  realize  what  you're  doing?" 

She  stopped  his  lips  with  her  fingers. 
246 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 
He  kissed  her  finger  tips  and  put  them 
aside — with  the  compelling  look  of  his  eyes 
rather    than   with    his    gentle   hand.      He 
said: 

"You  understand  you're  leaving  your 
class  and  coming  to  mine — and  that  the 
war  between  these  two  classes  is  going  to 

be  bitter  and  more  bitter  until " 

"But  that's  a  long  ways  off.  George," 
she  said  abruptly,  "let's  get  married  at 
once — to-day — to-morrow — as  soon  as  we 


can." 


"Why?" 

"Don't  you  wish  it?" 

He  smiled  tenderly.  "I'm  married  to 
you  already— for  good  and  all."  He  held 
her  tightly  in  his  long  arms  that  gave  her 
such  a  sense  of  peace  and  security.  "For 
ever — and  ay,  Ellen." 

She  was  sobbing.    "Oh — I'm  so  happy 

so  happy,"  she  murmured. 
247 


GEORGE    HELM 

"But  you  must  tell  me  why  you  want  to 
marry  at  once." 

She  did  not  answer. 

"Is  it  because  you  are  nervous  about — 
about  divided  loyalty?" 

She  nodded,  keeping  her  face  hid. 

"Then  you  do  understand?  You  have 
thought?" 

She  nodded.  "And  I  know  you'll  do 
nothing  but  what  you  ought  to  do." 

"What  I  have  to  do,"  he  replied.  "I'm 
going  to  enforce  the  laws.  I'm  going  to 
ask  for  more  laws  of  the  kind  that  are  for 
the  benefit  of  the  whole  people — and  I'm 
going  to  get  them." 

"You  are  going  to  attack — father?"  she 
said,  speaking  as  if  she  were  compelled. 

"Probably  you've  heard  of  Voltaire's 
dilemma?" 

"No,"  said  she. 

"Suppose  there  were  a  button  before  you, 
248 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 
and  by  pressing  it  you  could  have  your 
heart's  dearest  wish — wealth,  fame,  power, 
love,  happiness — but  if  you  did  press  that 
button,  instantly  a  human  being  away  off 
in  China  would  fall  dead.     It  might  be  an 
old  man  about  to  die  anyhow — or  horribly 
diseased — or   some   dreadful   criminal — or 
the  mother  of  some  baby  needing  all  her 
love    and    care — or    the    father    and    only 
support    of    a   family — or   some   girl    like 
yourself,  about  to  marry  and  be  happy.  You 
would  never  know  whom  you  had  killed; 
but — some  one  would  be  dead.    Would  you 
press  the  button  or  not?" 

"Isn't  that  terrible!"  said  she. 
"Well,  in  these  days  the  gentlemen  who 
are  so  eager  to  be  very  rich  have  constructed 
a  button — the  corporation.     It  gives  them 
their  dearest  wish — wealth  and  power.     It 
removes    responsibility    away   off,    beyond 
their  sight.     They  do  not  hesitate.     They 
249 


GEORGE    HELM 

press  the  button.  And  then,  away  off,  be 
yond  their  sight,  so  far  from  them  that 
they  can  pretend — can  make  many  believe, 
including  themselves — that  they  really 
didn't  know  and  don't  know  what  the  other 
consequences  of  pressing  the  button  are — 
away  off  there,  as  the  button  is  pressed,  peo 
ple  die,  people  starve,  babies  are  slaugh 
tered,  misery  blackens  countless  lives.  The 
prosperous,  respectable  gentlemen  press  the 
button.  And  not  they,  but  the  corporation 
grabs  public  property — bribes  public  offi 
cials — hires  men  they  never  see  to  do  their 
dirty  work,  their  cruel  work,  their  work  of 
shame  and  death.  They  press  the  button— 
and  the  dividends  pour  in — and  they  ignore 
and  forget  the  rest." 

A  long  silence.     He  sat  in  one  of  his  fa 
vorite  attitudes — body  bent  forward,  elbow 
on  knees,  eyes  staring  at  the  carpet.     She 
slowly  smoothed  down  first  one  sleeve  of 
250 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

her  blouse,   then   the  other.     At  last  she 
said: 

"Yes — that  is  it.    I  understand." 
"We  can't  take  any  of  that  money." 
Again  silence.    Then  she: 
"No,  George — we  can't." 
"You  are  sure  you  understand?" 
"Ever  since  we  became  engaged  I've  been 
getting  ready  to  be  your  wife." 

"You  have  no  secret  hope — perhaps  un 
known  to  yourself — that  I  will  change — 
will  join  your  class?" 

"For  a  while — last  spring — I  had,"  she 
confessed.     "But  soon — when  I  knew  you 
better — and    understood    your    speeches- 
then  I  didn't  want  you  to  change."     She 
smiled  quizzically — "not  even  your  tailor." 
He  looked  down  at  the  new  suit  in  which 
he  thought  himself  almost  too  fine.     But 
he   couldn't  see   how   characteristically   it 
bunched  and  bagged  upon  his  figure  intol- 
251 


GEORGE    HELM 

erant  of  fashionable  clothing.  "Don't  you 
like  this  suit?"  he  inquired  anxiously.  "I 
got  it  to  please  you.  I  hoped  you'd  like  it." 

"I  love  it,"  she  declared.  "I  wouldn't 
have  you  changed  one  least  little  bit." 

He  rose.  "I'll  go  get  the  license.  We 
can  marry  to-morrow — and  start  for  home. 
We  can  stop  off  and  look  at  Niagara  Falls 
if  you  like.  I've  never  seen  it." 

She  laughed  and  hugged  him.  He  thought 
it  was  altogether  because  of  the  decision 
about  the  marriage.  "Yes — do  let's  take  in 
Niagara,"  she  said,  and  she  laughed  again. 

"I've  got  a  lot  to  do  before  inauguration," 
he  went  on.  "After  we  get  to  Harrison  I 
may  not  be  able  to  spend  much  time  with 
you." 

"How  much'll  we  have  to  live  on, 
George?" 

"Oh — lots  of  money.  The  salary's  eight 
thousand  a  year.  We're  going  to  live  very 
252 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

simply.  I  don't  believe  in  acting  the  way 
our  governors  have  been  acting  lately.  We 
mustn't  forget  that  we  are  working  for  the 
people — and  that  they  are  very  poor.  I 
take  it  that  you  don't  care  for  luxury — or 
you  wouldn't  have  bothered  with  me." 

"I  don't  care  for  anything  but  you,"  she 
said.  "And  I  know  what  I'm  about." 

"Oh,  you'll  soon  get  your  bearings,  and 
we'll  be  saving  money.  We've  got  to  live 
after  we  get  out,  you  know.  And  I  may  not 
be  able  to  make  as  much  as  eight  thousand 
at  lecturing  and  law — my  kind  of  law." 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  said  she. 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and 
looked  straight  into  her  eyes.  Said  he: 

"You  understand  that  I  mean  what  I  say, 
Ellen?" 

"Yes— George." 

"And  that  it  isn't  going  to  be  any  dif 
ferent  with  me  after  we're  married." 
253 


GEORGE    HELM 

"It  mustn't  be." 

"Out  of  your  class — into  mine — to  stay 
there,  Ellen." 

"To  stay  there.  I've  learned  about  the 
men  who  use  the  people  to  step  up  on,  and 
then  turn  traitors.  I  am  marrying  your  life, 
George.  You  are  not  marrying  mine — what 
mine  has  been." 

They  looked  at  each  other  gravely.  And 
it  was  then  and  there  that  they  took  their 
real  marriage  vows. 

The  ceremony  in  the  large  drawing-room 
two  days  later  was  less  impressive.  In  fact, 
it  was  absurd,  as  marriage  ceremonies  in  the 
customary  surroundings  of  pretentiousness 
usually  are — to  all  who  have  an  unspoiled 
sense  of  humor.  The  fussy  and  angry  fa 
ther,  alternating  thoughts  of  tenderness  with 
longings  to  slay — the  solemn-ass  preacher  in 
robes,  with  affected  voice  and  sycophant 
manner  toward  rich  Senator  Clearwater — 
254 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 

the  pretty  grotesque  accidents  due  to  the 
agitation  of  Eleanor  and  the  awkward 
ness  of  the  lank  and  long  governor-elect 
—the  snufflings  and  weepings  of  Aunt 
Louisa,  glad  Eleanor  was  making  a  mar 
riage  that  improved  the  prospects  of  her 
own  grown  and  married  children  for  a 
large  share  of  the  Clearwater  fortune— 
these  and  all  other  absurdities  and  hy 
pocrisies  made  the  wedding  something 
for  the  happy  pair  to  joke  about  on  the 
train. 

"How  much  did  you  tell  Mr.  Desbrough 
to  give  the  clergyman ?"  she  asked. 

George  blushed.  "I  was  going  to  give 
him  twenty-five,  but  Bill  said  he  was  such 
a  swell  he  must  have  fifty.  So  I  had  to  let 
it  go  at  that." 

"Weakening  already!"  mocked  she.  "Five 
dollars  would  have  been  too  much.    He's  a 
frightful  cad — always  fawning  on  rich  peo- 
255 


GEORGE    HELM 

pie  and  hunting  a  rich  wife — and  he  a  serv 
ant  of  Jesus  Christ." 

"You'll  have  to  look  after  the  money,  El 
len,"  confessed  Helm.  "I'm  a  fool  about  it. 
I've  got  mighty  little  use  for  the  blamed 
stuff,  anyhow.  Besides,  it'll  give  you  some 
thing  to  do." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  shrewd  smile. 

"You're  going  to  test  me? — isn't  that 
it?" 

He  nodded.  "I  want  to  find  out  just  what 
you've  got  to  learn.  Just  because  I  had  to 
go  into  this,  I  didn't  go  in  blind.  I  can't 
do  things  that  way." 

"I  guess  we've  both  been  doing  a  lot  of 
thinking  since  last  spring."  She  slipped 
her  hand  into  his.  "I  don't  know  what  I've 
got  to  learn,  but  I  do  know  that  I'm  going 
to  learn  it." 

He  looked  at  her,  with  that  expression 
in  his  eyes  which  gave  her  the  sense  of  love 
256 


SEEING    HER    FATHER 
and  strength  and  tenderness  superhuman. 
He  said: 

"Yes — I  can  count  on  you,  Ellen." 
"As  long  as  you  look  at  me  like  that," 
said  she,   "I'll  not  ever  be  anything  but 
happy.    I'd  not  be  a  woman,  if  I  were." 


257 


VI 

THE  TEST 

IN  the  large  back  yard  of  the  "Execu 
tive  Mansion"  the  young  governor, 
George  Helm,  was  wheeling  his  first 
born — George  Helm,  also — up  and  down 
the  shady  central  walk  in  a  perambulator 
of  the  latest  scientific  make.  The  baby  was 
giving  the  healthy  baby's  fascinating  exhi 
bition  of  the  fathomless  peace  and  content 
that  can  be  got  only  from  sleep.  The  Gov 
ernor  and  Bill  Desbrough,  the  state  At 
torney-General  and  his  one  really  intimate 
friend,  were  talking  politics.  At  the  win 
dow  of  the  sitting-room  sat  Eleanor  Helm, 
sewing — when  she  was  not  watching  the  two 
Georges — her  two  Georges. 
There  are  two  things  as  brief  as  any  in 

258 


THE   TEST 

this  world  of  brevities — the  babyhood  of  her 
first  born  to  the  mother  who  loves  babies, 
and  his  term  of  office  to  the  public  man  who 
loves  office.  It  so  happened  that  both  these 
befell  the  Helms  at  the  same  time.  George 
married  Eleanor  Clearwater,  daughter  of 
the  lumber  king  and  United  States  Senator, 
a  few  weeks  before  he  was  inaugurated; 
and  the  first  baby  came  toward  the  end  of 
the  second  year  of  that  famous  stormy  term 
of  his.  It  was  now  the  spring  of  his  fourth 
year  as  governor.  Both  he  and  the  young 
woman  at  the  window  looked  younger  than 
when  they  married — without  the  consent 
which  her  father  dared  not  publicly  with 
hold,  or  indeed  privately,  since  he  had  not 
the  courage  to  cut  himself  off  from  his  only 
child.  The  reason  the  hands  were  turning 
backward  for  Helm  and  his  wife  was,  of 
course,  happiness.  A  man  often  loves  a 
woman — a  girl — for  the  possibilities  he  sees 
259 


GEORGE    HELM 

in  her  which  he  fancies  he  can  realize.  In 
deed  one  of  woman's  best  beguilements  for 
"leading  on"  the  man  she  wants  is  the  subtle 
creating  or  encouragement  of  this  same 
fancy.  But  when  a  woman  really  does  love 
a  man,  she  loves  him  for  himself,  wishes 
him  to  stay  exactly  as  he  is.  Eleanor  had 
taken  the  lank,  tall,  rural-looking  imper 
sonation  of  strength,  gentleness  and  self- 
unconscious  simplicity  because  that  was 
what  she  wanted.  Having  got  it  and  find 
ing  that  it  did  not  change,  she  proceeded  to 
be  happy.  The  slovenly  woman's  way  of 
being  happy  is  to  go  to  pieces.  The  ener 
getic  and  self-respecting  woman's  way  is  to 
"take  a  fresh  grip."  Mrs.  George  Helm 
was  younger  than  she  had  been  since  early 
girlhood.  She  felt  utterly  and  blissfully 
irresponsible;  had  she  not  her  George,  and 
had  not  he  taken  everything  on  his  shoul 
ders — except  looking  after  the  money- 
260 


THE   TEST 

spending,  the  house — and  the  baby?  The 
house  and  the  baby  were  a  delight.  Look 
ing  after  the  house  meant  making  big 
George  comfortable;  looking  after  the  baby 
meant  making  little  George  comfortable. 
As  for  the  money,  that  was  simple  enough. 
In  the  first  place,  there  wasn't  much  of  it; 
in  the  second  place,  George  gave  it  all  to 
her  and  meekly  accepted  the  small  allow 
ance  for  pocket  money — all  he  was  fit  to  be 
trusted  with. 

"Bill,"  said  George  to  the  lazy  friend 
whom  he  had  made  into  his  political  man 
ager  and  had  forced  to  take  the  office  of 
Attorney-General — "Bill,  you  ought  to  get 
married.  My  wife  takes  all  the  responsi 
bilities  off  my  shoulders  and  leaves  me  free 
just  to  have  fun." 

Bill  was  amused.  Only  a  few  minutes 
before  Mrs.  Helm  had  told  him  that  a  sensi 
ble  woman — meaning,  of  course,  herself — 
261 


GEORGE    HELM 

always  chose  a  man  she  could  trust  and  then 
turned  over  to  him  all  the  responsibilities 
and  gave  herself  up  to  love  and  happiness. 
George  Helm's  reason  for  looking  young 
er  was  somewhat  different.  That  is,  he  got 
the  happiness  in  a  different  way.  Much  is 
said  about  the  heavy  cares  of  office,  and  cer 
tainly  most  men  in  high  office  do  age  rapid 
ly.  But  Helm's  notion  of  the  duties  of  office 
was  not  that  usually  held  by  officials.  If  a 
man  spends  his  time  at  secretly  doing  things 
which  would  ruin  him,  were  they  found  out 
—if  he  hides  service  of  thieves  and  plunder 
ers  behind  a  pretense  of  public  service,  nat 
urally  he  grows  old  rapidly.  Such  secrets 
and  such  terrors  loosen  the  hair  and  the 
teeth,  stoop  the  shoulder's,  yellow  the  fat  and 
sag  and  wrinkle  the  cheeks.  But  if  a  man 
has  no  secrets  in  his  public  service,  if  he 
spends  each  day  in  the  rejuvenating  effort 
to  do  the  square  thing  without  troubling 
262 


THE    TEST 

himself  in  the  least  about  whether  he  will 
be  misunderstood,  or  maligned,  or  beaten 
for  a  second  term,  he  gets  younger  and  hap 
pier  all  the  time.  For  health  and  vitalizing 
no  other  vacation  equals  the  vacation  from 
lying  and  swindling  and  double-dealing  and 
plotting  that  make  up  the  routine  of  so 
many  lives. 

As  the  two  men  and  the  baby  carriage 
reached  the  far  end  of  the  walk,  Bill  said: 

"George,  it's  a  wonder  you  aren't  wheel 
ing  this  cart  up  and  down  the  main  street." 

"Too  much  noise  and  dust,"  replied  the 
governor.  "Bad  for  the  fat  one."  He 
usually  called  his  namesake  "the  fat  one." 

"You've  done  about  everything  else  I  can 
think  of  to  get  everybody  down  on  you. 
You've  made  the  politicians  hate  you  by 
forcing  through  decent  primary  and  elec 
tion  laws.  You've  got  the  railroads  and  the 
big  businesses  down  on  you  by  making  them 
263 


GEORGE    HELM 

pay  taxes  and  obey  the  laws.  YouVe  got 
the  farmers  down  on  you  by  giving  the  rail 
roads  the  excuse  of  their  taxes  for  raising 
rates.  YouVe  got  the  breweries  down  on 
you  by  shutting  up  a  lot  of  their  doggeries 
and  enforcing  an  inspection  of  their  beer. 
YouVe  got  the  merchants  down  on  you  by 
making  them  toe  the  mark  on  false  weights 
and  measures.  YouVe  got  the  men  down 
on  you  because  they  say  your  'honest'  ad 
ministration  has  made  business  bad,  and  in 
creased  the  unemployed.  YouVe  got  the 
women  down  on  you  because  you  and  your 
wife  haven't  been  social  snobs  and  givers  of 
swell  entertainments,  as  governors  and  their 
wives  always  have  been  hitherto — and  are 
expected  to  be." 

George    listened,    much    amused.      "No 
friends  left  but  you,  Bill,"  said  he. 

"You  haven't  succeeded  in  pleasing  any 
body  on  earth." 

264 


THE    TEST 

"Except  myself,"  said  Helm. 

They  had  turned  and  were  once  more 
moving  toward  the  house — toward  the 
young  woman  at  the  window.  "Yourself — 
and  your  wife,"  said  Desbrough. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  George.  He  was  look 
ing  at  her.  His  eyes  always  changed  ex 
pression  when  he  looked  at  her. 

"When  you  took  this  office,  you  said  you 
were  going  to  please  the  people,"  pursued 
Bill. 

"To  serve  the  people,"  corrected  Helm 

"Same  thing,"  rejoined  his  friend.  "Now 
— youVe  found  out  that  there  isn't  any  such 
thing  as  the  people." 

Helm  nodded. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  interests  of  one  kind 
and  another,  big  and  little.  The  masses  are 
employed  by  them  to  produce  and  are  their 
customers  as  consumers.  The  interests  rob 
them,  both  ways  from  the  Jack." 
265 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm  nodded. 

"There  are  pluckers  and  plucked,  but 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  'the  people/  " 

"Not  yet,"  admitted  Helm. 

"YouVe  been  serving  something  that 
doesn't  exist." 

Helm  nodded. 

"The  pluckers  hate  you  because  you've 
interfered  with  their  game.  The  plucked 
hate  you  because  they  think  you've  put 
them  in  a  position  where  they'll  not  be 
plucked  only  because  they  haven't  anything 
to  pluck." 

"They  don't  hate  me,  exactly,"  said 
George. 

"You're  right.  I  withdraw  hate.  They 
love  you.  They  go  crazy  at  sight  of  you. 
They  flock  to  hear  you  speak  and  they  cheer 
you  until  you  have  to  stop  them  to  get 
through  your  speech.  But — that  doesn't 
fool  you?" 

266 


THE    TEST 

"Not  for  a  minute,"  replied  Helm. 
"They  think  I  mean  well  but  am— dan 
gerous." 

"You  hypnotized  them  two  years  ago," 
Desbrough  went  on,  "and  induced  them  to 
give  you  a  legislature  that  had  to  put 
through  your  program.  But  the  pluck- 
ers  have  organized  and  have  put  that  fox 
Sayler  in  charge  again— and  they've  got 
your  humble  friends  of  the  workshop  and 
the  plow  good  and  scared  at  last." 

"But  I  didn't  bring  you  here  to-day,  Bill, 
to  talk  about  my  political  fortunes.  What's 
become  of  those  Western  Timber  cases?" 

"Those  cases  you  asked  me  to  get  up 
against  the  Western  Timber  and  Mineral 
Company?"  said  Desbrough  with  a  curious 
change  of  voice. 

"Wait,"  said  Helm.  "My  wife  wants 
the  baby." 

Desbrough  waited.     Helm  disappeared 
267 


GEORGE    HELM 

with  the  carriage  at  the  half-basement  door; 
Mrs.  Helm  disappeared  from  the  window. 
Affairs  of  state  had  to  wait  full  ten  min 
utes.  Then  Helm  rejoined  his  friend  with 
an  expression  of  intense,  if  somewhat  guilty, 
pleasure  that  gave  the  shrewd  Attorney- 
General  a  clue  to  what  had  occurred 
within.  Said  Helm,  with  renewed  vigor: 

"What  about  those  cases,  Bill?  You 
lazy  pup !  I've  had  to  nag  at  you  ever  since 
we  got  in." 

"Haven't  I  done  all  you  asked?"  laughed 
Desbrough. 

"Yes — and  done  it  well,  Bill.  But — how 
I  have  had  to  nag!" 

"It'd  'a'  been  better  for  you,  if  I  hadn't 
done  so  much.  You've  tried  to  set  the  world 
straight,  George,  in  one  term  as  governor." 

"You're  wrong  there,  old  man,"  replied 
Helm.  "I've  simply  settled  each  question 
as  it  came  up.  It  had  to  be  settled  one  way 
268 


THE   TEST 

or  the  other.  I  haven't  had  time  to  do  any 
thing  but  just  the  things  that  were  squarely 
put  up  to  me  to  do." 

Desbrough's  shrug  was  admission  that 
George  had  spoken  exactly.  "I  don't  blame 
you,  George,"  said  he.  "But  you  see  how 
it  is.  Didn't  I  warn  you?" 

"That  I  was  playing  bad  politics?  Oh, 
yes.  And  I  knew  it.  I  knew  how  to  get  in, 
Bill.  I  knew  how  to  stay  in.  But  when  it 
came  to  a  show-down  I  couldn't  do  a  dozen 
rotten  things  in  order  to  get  through  one 
that  was  half  way  decent." 

"Well — you'll  go  out,  and  somebody 
that's  altogether  rotten'll  come  in." 

"How  about  those  cases?" 

"I'll  take  them  up  in  a  few  days."  Des- 
brough  was  trying  to  hide  his  nervousness 
from  his  keen-eyed  friend.  "Give  me  an 
other  week,  George." 

Helm  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  Desbrough's 
269 


GEORGE    HELM 

shoulder.      "What's    the   matter?"   he   de 
manded. 

Desbrough  saw  he  could  not  evade. 
"This  Western  Timber  and  Mineral  Com 
pany — the  T.  and  M.,  as  they  call  it — it's  a 
queer  sort  of  holding  corporation." 

"It's  the  worst  thief  in  this  part  of  the 
world — a  waster  and  a  stealer  and  a 
starver." 

"But  it's  a  clever  villain — the  cleverest. 
It's  got  safety  hooks  and  lines  out  in  every 
direction.  If  you  attack  it  you'll  get  a 
return  volley  from  pretty  near  everything 
that  has  a  voice  in  this  state — newspapers, 
preachers,  charity  societies  of  every  kind, 
doctors,  lawyers,  retailers.  It's  wound 
round  everything  and  everybody." 

"It's  the  big  waster,  the  big  stealer,  the 
big  starver — and  the  big  corruption.    Now, 
it  has  defied  the  government  of  this  state— 
the  people." 

270 


THE    TEST 

"The  people  doesn't  exist,"  Desbrough  re 
minded  him. 

"It's  got  to  go." 

"First  crack  out  of  the  box — as  soon  as  I 
begin  to  attack — it  will  close  a  lot  of  plants 
and  throw  fifty  thousand  workers — men, 
women  and  children — out  of  employment." 

"Is  that  as  bad  as  what  it's  doing?" 

"No,"  admitted  Desbrough.  "Not  one 
hundredth  part  as  bad.  But  it'll  look  worse. 
Everybody  will  think  and  say  it's  worse." 

"What  are  you  afraid  of,  Bill?  I  know  it 
isn't  yourself.  What  is  it?" 

Desbrough  looked  steadily  at  his  friend. 
"You  know  what  the  T.  &  M.  is — who  it 
really  is?" 

"Anybody  especial?" 

"It's  controlled  by— your  father-in-law." 

This  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that 
George  Helm  had  been  faced  with  the  diffi 
culties  necessarily  involved  in  his  having 
271 


GEORGE    HELM 

married  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  leading 
politico-business  traffickers  of  the  Middle 
West.  But  theretofore  each  difficulty  had 
come  in  some  form  that  enabled  him  to  keep 
on  his  course  without  wounding  his  wife's 
sensibilities,  and  with  no  other  ill  effect  than 
deepening  his  father-in-law's  secret  hatred 
and  detestation.  But  now  the  long-dreaded 
crisis  seemed  to  have  come. 

"We've  warned  that  company  several 
times,"  said  he,  reflecting. 

"Five  formal  warnings,"  said  Desbrough. 
"I've  just  given  them  a  sixth.  That's  why 
I'm  delaying." 

"Six.  That's  too  many.  We've  been 
more  than  fair." 

"George,  if  I  go  ahead — I  send  two  of 
your  wife's  own  cousins  to  the  pen — and  dis 
grace  her  father — drive  him  out  of  public 
life." 

A  long  silence.  Then  Helm  said  quietly: 
272 


THE   TEST 

"Do  you  think  they'll  pay  attention  to 
the  warning?" 

"No,"  replied  Desbrough.  He  watched 
the  lines  growing  slowly  taut  in  George 
Helm's  rugged  face,  and  hastily  added, 
"Now,  see  here,  old  man — for  God's  sake 
don't  do  another  unpractical  thing — the 
worst  yet.  The  others  only  wrecked  you 
politically.  This'll  wreck  your  home." 

In  the  same  tranquil  way  Helm  said: 

"Have  I  ever  done  a  single  unpractical 
thing?  You  know  I  haven't.  You  know— 
or  ought  to — that  Sayler—  There's  a  poli 
tician! — he  put  up  the  whole  game  on  me. 
He  fixed  it  so  that  I'd  be  forced  either  to  do 
dirty  work  or  to  oflend  one  after  another 
every  power  in  this  state  and  so  kill  myself 
politically." 

Desbrough  suddenly  saw  the  whole  plot — 
simple,  devilish,  inevitably  successful.    And 
all  his  love  for  Helm  was  concentrated  in 
273 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  deep,  passionate  fury  of  his  exclamation 
-"The  dirty  devil!" 

"No  use  calling  names,"  rejoined  Helm 
placidly.  "He  plays  his  game;  we  play 
ours.  And  anyhow,  he  has  lost." 

"Lost?"  echoed  Desbrough.  "How  do 
you  make  that  out?  I  think  he's  won. 
Hasn't  he  done  you  up  for  a  second  term?" 

"Even  so,  still  he  has  lost,"  Helm  an 
swered.  "His  main  object  was  to  make 
us  do  dirty  work.  And  we  haven't — not 
yet." 

Desbrough's  eyes  shifted.  After  a  pause 
he  said  with  some  constraint: 

"You  want  me  to  wait  till  these  people 
have  a  chance  to  act  on  my  last  warning?" 

Helm  said: 

"I'll  give  you  an  answer  to-morrow. 
You're  all  ready  to  go  ahead?" 

"Yes." 

"Then — I'll  see  you  to-morrow." 
274 


THE    TEST 

And  Desbrough  did  not  envy  him  the  rest 
of  that  day  and  the  night. 

In  the  afternoon,  to  the  governor's  pri 
vate  room  in  the  Capitol  came  Harvey 
Sayler.  Nominally,  Sayler  was  a  rich 
United  States  Senator  and  the  state  leader 
of  the  Republican  party  machine.  .Actually, 
he  was  the  boss  of  the  machines  of  both 
parties,  was  an  overlord  of  bosses,  was  the 
plutocracy's  honored  and  courted  major- 
general  for  the  Middle  West.  As  the  masses 
in  their  slow,  dim  way  were  beginning  to 
realize  that  parties  and  politics  were  not 
matters  of  principle  but  of  pocket  filling— 
and  pocket-emptying,  Sayler  was  being 
denounced,  was  being  built  up  into  a  figure 
of  greater  menace,  and  therefore  of  greater 
public  admiration  and  respect,  than  the 
actualities  warranted,  powerful  and  danger 
ous  though  he  was.  But  he  had  remained 
275 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  affable,  cynically  good-humored  good 
fellow.  Whenever  one  of  the  plutocracy's 
thoroughly  pliant  tools  was  in  high  office, 
Sayler  and  he  always  pretended  to  quarrel, 
got  the  newspapers  to  fool  the  public  with 
big  headlines — "Fearless  governor  (or  at 
torney-general  or  judge)  breaks  with  the 
bosses" — and  Sayler  and  he  met  only  in  the 
stealthiest  privacy,  if  meeting  became  nec 
essary.  Whenever  a  more  or  less  independ 
ent  man  was  in  office,  Sayler  always  kept  on 
terms  of  the  greatest  apparent  friendliness 
with  him — for  obvious  reasons. 

As  Helm  had  shown  in  his  talk  with  Bill 
Desbrough,  he  understood  Sayler.  And 
Sayler,  knowing  that  he  could  gain  nothing 
by  deceiving  Helm  in  their  personal  talks, 
gave  himself  the  pleasure  of  being  almost 
frank. 

"Well,  Governor,"  said  he,  "how  goes  the 
game  of  honest  politics?" 
276 


THE    TEST 

"I  needn't  tell  you"  replied  Helm,  good- 
humoredly. 

"You'll  some  day  see  I  was  right  when  I 
warned  you  there  was  no  such  thing  as  hon 
est  politics." 

"Did  I  ever  deny  it?"  said  Helm.  "How 
could  there  be  honest  politics?  Human 
society  is,  necessarily,  modeled  as  yet  upon 
the  only  example  man  had  to  guide  them — 
nature,  with  her  cruel  law  of  the  survival  of 
the  fittest.  Men  live  by  taking  advantage 
of  one  another — of  one  another's  ignorance, 
stupidity,  necessity,  cowardice.  And  poli 
tics — it's  simply  the  struggle  between  war 
ring  appetites,  between  competing  selfish 


nesses." 


"Then  what's  the  use  of  exhorting  men  to 
stop  robbing  each  other?"  inquired  Sayler. 
"Isn't  my  plan  the  wiser — and  the  better? — 
to  try  to  show  the  strong  that  they  shouldn't 
strip  the  weak — that  they  should  content 
277 


GEORGE    HELM 

themselves  with  all  the  harvest,  and  not  up 
root  and  so  prevent  another  harvest." 

"I  admit  you  have  your  usefulness,"  re 
plied  Helm.  "But  I  insist  that  my  sort  of 
politician  is  useful  also.  You  are  trying  to 
soften  the  strong,  we  to  strengthen  the  weak. 
But" — with  eyes  suddenly  twinkling — "I've 
been  expecting  you.  I  knew  your  plan 
was  about  complete." 

"My  plan?" 

"You've  been  very  cleverly  forcing  me 
into  a  position  where  I'd  have  every  inter 
est,  big  and  little,  in  the  state  against  me— 
a  position  where  it  would  be  impossible  for 
me  to  get  a  second  term — or  any  office. 
Well — you've  apparently  got  me  where  you 
want  me.  So  it's  time  for  you  to  make  me  a 
proposition." 

Sayler's  smile  was  admission. 

"Incidentally,"  pursued  Helm,  "you've 
made  me  punish  those  of  your  plutocratic 

278 


THE   TEST 

friends  who  were  restless  under  your  rule. 
They  are  now  all  back  at  your  feet,  I  be 
lieve?" 

Sayler  laughed.    "All,"  said  he.  "They'll 
not  annoy  me  soon  again." 

"Well— what  next?" 

"I've  come  to  offer  you  my  position,"  was 
Sayler's  unexpected  and  astounding  offer. 
"I  am  going  to  marry  again,  and  the  lady 
does  not  like  politics — my  kind  of  politics— 
the  only  kind  I  can  play.  Also,  I'm  tired. 
I'd  like  to  give  my  place  to  my  colleague  in 
the  Senate  and  first  lieutenant,  splendid  old 
Doc  Woodruff.  But  he's  a  born  lieutenant. 
He  simply  couldn't  learn  to  lead.  So — I've 
been  training  you  for  the  job." 

Sayler  evidently  regarded  it  as  a  rare  joke 
that  he,  a  plutocracy  boss,  had  been  training 
the  most  radical  and  anti-plutocratic  gov 
ernor  in  the  Middle  West — had  been  train 
ing  him  to  become  the  leader  for  the  plutoc- 
279 


GEORGE    HELM 

racy.     Helm,  recovering  from  his  surprise, 
was  also  amused. 

"I've  been  teaching  you  the  folly  of  your 
ways.     You  have  had  a  free  hand.     You 
have  done  what  was  right.     Result — gen 
eral  dissatisfaction,  general  distrust  of  you, 
general  desire  for  a  change  back  to  us.    The 
people  say— 'Yes,  those  fellows  steal  almost 
all  the  fruits  of  our  labor.     But  they  own 
the  mines  and  the  shops  and  the  railroads, 
which  practically  means  that  they  own  the 
land.     If  we  want  to  earn  a  living  for  our 
families,  we've  got  to  apply  to  them  for  per 
mission  to  work.    The  sensible  thing  for  us 
to  do  is  to  make  the  best  terms  we  can.    If 
we  took  the  property  away  from  the  plutoc 
racy  we'd  not  get  it,  but  our  clever  leaders 
would,  and  they'd  rob  us  just  as  we're  being 
robbed  now.'    Isn't  that  the  way  the  people 
reason?" 

"Much  like  that,"  admitted  Helm. 
280 


THE   TEST 

"And  there  they  show  their  shrewd  sense. 
Oh,  the  people  aren't  fools — not  altogether. 
They  have  intelligence  enough.  What  they 
lack  is  efficient  intelligence.  They  know, 
but  they  don't  know  how  to  use  their 
knowledge." 

"They're  learning,"  said  Helm. 

"You  mean  your  independent  following? 
Yes" — Sayler  nodded  thoughtfully — "you 
have  done  wonders.  I've  admired  the  way 
you've  built  up  a  personal  following  of 
nearly  a  hundred  thousand  votes.  If  we 
didn't  happen  to  own  both  machines — and 
therefore  are  indifferent  which  wins — your 
following  would  give  you  the  balance  of 
power.  As  matters  stand,  what  is  a  hundred 
thousand,  when  we  have  nearly  half  a  mil 
lion?" 

Helm  was  silent. 

"You  see  the  situation  as  it  is,"  continued 
Sayler.  "That's  why  I  come  to  you.  What 
281 


GEORGE    HELM 

our  side  needs  is  another  leader  such  as  I've 
tried  to  be — one  who  shows  the  plutocratic 
fools  their  true  interest — not  to  kill  but  to 
pet  and  fatten  the  goose  that  lays  the  golden 
eggs." 

Helm  was  thinking.  Sayler  felt  encour 
aged.  He  went  on: 

"You  can  make  yourself  as  rich  as  you 
please.  Or,  you  can  remain  poor,  if  you 
like.  You  can — in  fact,  you  must — keep 
your  independent  following — and  increase 
it.  It  is  the  power  you  can  use  to  keep  your 
plutocratic  clients  in  order." 

Sayler  observed  the  thoughtful  face  of 
the  young  governor  narrowly.  Then  he 
went  on: 

"There's  plenty  of  time  to  consider  this 
proposition  of  mine.  I  guess  it  will  be  at 
tractive  or  not  to  you  according  as  you  de 
cide  that  you  can  or  cannot  control  your 
plutocratic  clients  to  reasonably,  humanly 
282 


THE   TEST 

decent  conduct.     I  think  you  can.     That's 
why  I  make  you  the  offer." 

"You  had  another  matter  about  which 
you  wished  to  speak  to  me?"  said  Helm. 

"A  good  guess.  Yes — I  want  to  talk  T. 
and  M." 

"To-morrow,"  said  Helm.  "Not  to-day." 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  your  father-in- 
law " 

"I've  learned  it." 

"Being  a  public  official,  he's  had  to  keep 
his  corporation  connections  very  dark  in 
deed.  Perhaps  I  should  have  told  you. 
But  I  knew  the  secret  in  a  way  that  made  it 
difficult  for  me  to  speak." 

"It  didn't  matter,"  said  Helm,  grimly. 
"I've  learned  in  good  time." 

Sayler  rose.  "Your  father-in-law  tele 
graphs  me  that  he'll  arrive  to-night." 

"Keep  him  away  from  my  house  until 
eleven  to-morrow." 

283 


GEORGE    HELM 
"You  wish  to  tell  your  wife  first?" 
"No.     I  shall  let  him  tell  her.     But  no 
one  ought  to  hear  agitating  news  before  the 
middle  of  the  morning — after  the  day  is 
well  started  but  while  there's  still  most  of 
the  day  left  for  thinking  it  over." 

Sayler  was  touched  by  this  evidence 
of  Helm's  minute  thoughtfulness  for  the 
woman  he  loved.  "Thank  you  for  that  sug 
gestion,"  said  he.  "I've  been  letting  my 
secretary  tell  me  all  sorts  of  news  at  any 
old  time — with  disastrous  results  to  my 
health.  My  compliments  to  your  wife. 
I'm  hoping  to  see  her  before  I  go  back  to 
Washington." 

At  noon  the  following  day  Helm  left  his 
office — an  hour  earlier  than  usual — and 
went  home.  At  the  sitting-room  door  he 
paused.  After  a  brief  hesitation  he  opened 
the  door  and  entered.  As  he  expected,  there 
284 


THE   TEST 

were  his  wife  and  her  father.  Helm  glanced 
at  the  troubled  face  of  his  wife.  Without 
greeting  his  father-in-law  he  said  to  her: 

"He  has  told  you?" 

"It's  true  then,  George?"  replied  she. 

He  nodded. 

Clearwater  interposed  with  angry  dig 
nity: 

"I've  been  laying  the  whole  case  before 
my  daughter,  sir — your  proposed  attempt  to 
disgrace  and  to  ruin  me." 

Helm  now  looked  at  him.     "You  have 

had  six  warnings,"  said  he.     "You  could 

have  made  your  corporation  obey  the  laws 

—or  you  could  have  sold  your  holdings  and 

gotten  away  from  it." 

"We  have  disobeyed  no  laws,"  retorted 
Clearwater.  "We  have  simply  disregarded 
alleged  laws  enacted  by  demagogues  to 
compel  us  to  pay  blackmail  or  go  out  of 
business." 

285 


GEORGE    HELM 

"Your  own  lawyers  drew  the  laws,"  re 
plied  Helm,  "and  Sayler  ordered  them 
passed  six  years  ago.  But  they  were  in 
tended  for  use  against  any  rival  to  your 
monopoly  that  might  spring  up." 

"You'll  let  us  alone,  or  you'll  never  hold 
another  office  in  this  state,"  cried  Clear- 
water.  "I  came  here  to  ask  my  daughter  to 
use  her  influence  with  you  to  save  yourself 
from  destruction.  I  had  forgotten  what  an 
obstinate  visionary  you  were.  But  I  think 
even  you  will  hesitate  before  breaking  Her 
heart,  bowing  her  head  with  shame." 

"I've  told  father,"  said  Eleanor,  "that 
I  haven't  any  influence  with  you.  I'd  not 
venture  to  speak  to  you  about  a  political 
matter — unless  I  understood  it.  And  I've 
been  so  busy  with  the  baby  these  last  two 
years  that  I  don't  really  know  anything  any 


more." 


"Eleanor,  I've  explained  it  all  to  you," 

286 


THE   TEST 

said  Clearwater,  deeply  agitated.  "If  he 
goes  on,  it  means  disgrace  to  me.  I  can 
punish  him — and  I  shall.  But  I'll  have  to 
leave  public  life." 

Eleanor  looked  inquiringly  at  her  hus 
band.  He  said: 

"Yes,  dear." 

"George,  you  can't  do  that!"  cried  she. 

Helm  winced.    He  said  gravely : 

"Your  father — through  his  corporation — 
put  it  squarely  up  to  me  either  to  prosecute 
him  or  to  re-license  his  corporation  for  rob 
bing  the  people  of  this  state." 

"That's  a  lie!"  cried  Clearwater.  "It's 
as  honest  a  business  as  there  is!" 

"Yes,"  said  Helm,  "it's  as  honest  a  big 
business  as  there  is — and  as  dishonest." 

"You  can't  disgrace  my  father,  George," 
said  Eleanor.  "You  can't  send  my  cousins 
to  the  penitentiary.  Why,  they're  like  my 
brothers." 

287 


GEORGE    HELM 

Helm  looked  gravely  at  her.  He  said 
slowly: 

"You  are  their  cousin.  You  are  Senator 
Clearwater's  daughter.  But  you  are  my 
wife — you  are  our  son's  mother." 

She  was  deathly  pale,  and  her  eyes  looked 
her  terror,  as  she  said  breathlessly: 

"My  father!    Oh,  George,  you  can't!" 

"Yes,"  said  Helm  gently.  "I  can — and  I 
must — and,  Ellen,  I  will." 

"You  asking  me  to  choose  between  you 
and  my  father!"  exclaimed  she. 

"No,  Ellen,"  replied  he.  "I  am  your 
husband.  There  can't  be  any  choice  be 
tween  me  and  any  one  else  on  earth." 

They  gazed  at  each  other,  he  as  white  as 
she.  But  she  was  trembling,  while  he  stood 
like  a  strong  tree.  She  said: 

"Yes — I  am  yours,  George.  But — you 
will  give  me  a  wound  I'll  never  recover 
from." 

288 


THE   TEST 

He  said:  "It  will  give  us  a  wound 
that'll  never  heal.  But — we'll  suffer  to 
gether,  my  love,  as  we  have  been  happy  to 
gether." 

Clearwater  watched  them  with  awe.  It 
was  the  first  time  in  all  his  life  that  he  had 
ever  seen  love — the  reality  of  love.  And 
the  sight  was  so  overpowering  that  it  over 
whelmed  his  emotions  of  terror  and  rage 
and  hate.  When  he  finally  spoke  it  was 
with  a  kind  of  hysteria: 

"My  God,  Eleanor!  If  your  dead  mother 
could  have  known  that  her  daughter- 
Helm  put  his  arm  round  his  wife  and  in 
terrupted  sternly: 

"If  her  dead  mother  could  have  seen  you 
at  your  deviltry  through  that  corporation- 
could  have  seen  the  starving  wretches  in 
your  lumber  camps — the  blighted  children 
toiling  in  your  mines,  the  blood  and  filth  on 
your  dividend  dollars,  every  one  of  them"! 
289 


GEORGE    HELM 

"He  lies,  Eleanor!"  cried  her  father. 
"He  is  a  half-crazed  crank— 

"He  is  my  husband,  father,"  interrupted 
Eleanor.  And  very  proud  she  looked  as  she 
said  it. 

"You  will  do  nothing  to  help  me!"  cried 
her  father,  in  a  sudden  agony  of  fear. 

Eleanor  was  about  to  reply.  Helm  shook 
his  head,  led  her  gently  toward  the  door. 
He  said: 

"Leave  us  alone,  please." 

"Eleanor,"  shrieked  her  father,  "if  you 
yield  to  this  man,  if  you  give  up  your  father 
to  be  destroyed  by  him,  I  shall  disinherit 
you,  I  shall  curse  you.  I  shall  curse  you. 
I  shall  curse  you!" 

The  daughter  shivered  from  head  to  foot. 
Helm  bore  her  firmly  on,  released  her  at  the 
threshold.  She  cried,  "George,  let  me  stay! 
Please,  dear !  Let  me  talk  with  both  of  you. 
You  are  both  so  hard— 
290 


THE   TEST 

Her  voice  had  been  faltering,  for  again 
he  had  fixed  her  gaze  with  those  kind,  in 
flexible  eyes  of  his.  She  became  silent.  In 
the  hall  he  kissed  her,  released  her.  Then 
he  returned  to  the  sitting-room,  closing  the 
door  behind  him.  He  said  to  Clearwater, 
quietly,  almost  gently: 

"You  had  better  tell  your  corporation  to 
yield.  If  you  don't,  it  will  break  her  heart, 
as  you  see." 

"We  will  not  yield!"  cried  Clearwater, 
shaking  his  fist  in  Helm's  face.  "And  after 
you  have  actually  done  your  dastardly  work, 
she  will  hate  you.  You  think  you  own  her, 
body  and  soul.  You'll  find  out  afterward. 
She  will  hate  you,  she  will  leave  you." 

"She   will   neither   leave   me,   nor   hate 


me." 


There  was  in  his  voice  the  finality  not  of 
mere  conviction,  but  of  truth  itself.     For 
he  knew — as   only   those  who   really  love 
291 


GEORGE    HELM 

and  really  are  loved  know — what  he  and  his 
wife  were  to  each  other — the  union  that  is  a 
fusion  which  not  even  death  can  dissolve. 

After  a  pause  he  went  on : 

"Shall  I  tell  the  attorney-general  that 
formal  notice  of  yielding  will  come  to-mor 
row?" 

Silence.    Then  Clearwater  sullenly 

"Day  after  to-morrow." 

Helm  reflected,  said :    "That  will  do." 

"You  have  won,"  sneered  Clearwater. 
"Not  much  of  a  victory.  You  knew  you 
could  count  on  her,  hard-hearted  fool  that 
she  is." 

"Count  on  her?"  replied  Helm,  tran 
quilly.  "As  on  myself.  And  I  may  add 
that  I  knew  what  you  would  do.  What  else 
could  you  do,  if  you  failed  to  make  my  wife 
turn  traitor  and  ask  me  to  dishonor  myself 
that  you  might  go  on  robbing.  Don't  try 
to  shift  and  twist  out  of  your  agreement 
292 


THE   TEST 

with  me.  Next  time  there  will  be  no  warn 
ing." 

Clearwater  reduced  himself  to  the  calm 
fury  that  is  looking  forward  with  a  kind  of 
serenity  to  a  certain  and  complete  revenge. 
Said  he: 

"This  is  the  last  year  you'll  ever  hold 
office  in  this  state — or  anywhere  in  this 
country." 

"Then  your  people  have  to  live  decent 
only  about  eight  months  longer,"  was 
Helm's  amiable  rejoinder.  "I  guess  they 
can  manage  it." 

"I  am  going,"  said  Clearwater,  moving 
toward  the  door.  "I  hope  I  shall  never  see 
either  of  you  again.  I  shall  hound  you  both 
into  poverty.  Then — if  you  wish  me  to  take 
the  child,  I'll  take  it — provided  you  give  me 
full  possession." 

"I  shall  remember,"  said  Helm,  simply. 

His  manner  was  that  of  a  man  who  has 
293 


GEORGE    HELM 

nothing  to  say,  who  will  answer  any  direct 
question  with  unruffled  courtesy,  who  will 
listen  as  long  as  his  visitor  wishes  to  talk, 
and  patiently.  Clearwater,  discouraged, 
cast  about  for  some  speech  that  would  help 
him  out  of  the  room.  He  could  find  none. 
So  he  abruptly  departed,  feeling  more  un 
comfortable  than  angry.  He  could  not 
understand  his  own  feelings,  his  unprece 
dented  lack  of  spirit.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  Helm,  matchless  as  a  manager  of 
men,  and  far  Clearwater's  superior  in  intel 
ligence,  might  have  been  responsible  for 
this  puzzling  state  of  his. 

As  soon  as  his  father-in-law  had  had  time 
to  get  clear  of  the  house,  Helm  went  up  to 
his  wife.  The  "fat  one"  was  solemnly  in 
specting  his  bright  blocks  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  Eleanor  was  sitting  by  the  win 
dow,  gazing  out  into  the  tree-tops.  She 
slowly  became  conscious  that  her  husband 
294 


THE   TEST 

was  at  the  threshold.  She  turned  her  eyes 
toward  him. 

Said  he: 

"He's  gone.  He  has  agreed  to  yield.  So 
the  prosecution  won't  be  necessary." 

Instead  of  the  expression  of  relief  he  ex 
pected,  she  looked  as  if  she  had  not  heard. 
She  came  toward  him;  she  laid  her  hands 
upon  his  shoulders  and  looked  up  at  him. 
The  "fat  one"  paused  in  the  inspection  of  a 
block  to  observe  them — his  father  and 
mother;  he  was  trying  hard  to  get  ac 
quainted  with  them,  and  to  make  them 
acquainted  with  him. 

Eleanor  said: 

"I  never  knew  until  to-day  what  love 
meant — and  that  I  loved  you." 

He  laughed  gently,  and  gently  kissed  her. 

There   were   tears  in  his   eyes.     The   "fat 

one"  dropped  the  block  and  opened  wide 

his  mouth  and  shut  tight  his  eyes  and  emit- 

295 


GEORGE    HELM 

ted  a  lusty  howl — the  beginning  of  a  series 
that  was  suspended  by  his  lapsing  into  his 
bad  habit  of  holding  his  breath.  Eleanor 
caught  him  up  and  tried  to  shake  him  back 
to  howling.  But  he  continued  to  hold  his 
breath,  to  grow  a  deeper  and  deeper  purple. 

"If  he  only  wouldn't  do  that!"  cried  she. 
"I  thought  he  was  cured  of  it." 

"Give  him  to  me,  mother,"  said  George, 
intensely  alarmed,  though  he  knew  the  baby 
would  come  out  of  it  all  right.  He  handled 
the  "fat  one"  awkwardly,  but  it  was  touch 
ing  as  well  as  amusing  to  see  the  little  crea 
ture  in  those  long  arms.  He  and  Eleanor 
shook  and  patted  and  pleaded.  But  not  un 
til  they  were  quite  beside  themselves  did  the 
"fat  one"  consent  to  resume.  With  a  gurgle 
and  gasp  he  suddenly  expelled  the  long-held 
breath  in  a  whoop  and  a  shriek — a  hideous 
sound,  but  how  it  thrilled  those  two  fright 
ened  parents! 

296 


THE   TEST 

"I  really  ought  to  spank  him,"  said  Ellen 
with  a  hysterical  laugh.  "He  does  it  on 
purpose." 

"You  fat  rascal!"  said  George,  waving  a 
long  forefinger  at  his  son.  The  fat  one 
seized  it  and  abruptly  began  to  smile. 
Peace  being  thus  restored,  George — of  an 
analytical  mind — said:  "Whatever  pos 
sessed  him  to  burst  out  that  way?" 

Eleanor  laughed.  "I  think  he  was  jeal 
ous,"  she  suggested.  She  kissed  the  "fat 
one"  tenderly.  "And  he  had  reason  to  be," 
she  added. 

They  played  on  the  floor  with  the  baby 
and  the  blocks — no;  they  played,  using  the 
baby  and  the  blocks  as  an  excuse.  After  a 
while  George  said: 

"How  little  do  you  suppose  we  can  live 
on?" 

"Oh,  as  little  as  anybody,"  replied  she 
carelessly,  intent  upon  the  house  of  blocks 
297 


GEORGE    HELM 

they  were  making.  "You  see,  so  long  as 
we've  got  ourselves,  we  don't  need  much 
else.  You're  building  your  side  too 
thin." 

George  filled  out  the  lower  walls  with  a 
second  row,  like  the  walls  on  her  side. 
Said  he: 

"Sayler  offered  me  his  job — running  the 
two  machines." 

Eleanor  gave  a  faint  smile  of  amusement 

—as  much  attention  as  she  could  spare  for 

an  "outside"  matter  when  she  was  teaching 

the  "fat  one's"  clumsy  hands  to  lay  blocks 

straight. 

"Shall  I  ask  him  to  dinner  when  I  see 
him  this  afternoon,  to  thank  him  and  tell 
him  I  won't  take  it?" 

"Yes— do  ask  him,"  said  Ellen.  "He 
brought  us  together — when  you  were  trying 
to  get  away.  No,  baby,  not  that  way — the 
long  side  across." 

298 


THE    TEST 

"Your  father  told  me  he  was  going  to  cut 
you  off — and  the  baby,  too,  unless  we  gave 
it  to  him  to  raise." 

Ellen  smiled — amused,  a  little  sad.  She 
said:  "Poor  papa!  He  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself  for  trying  to  interfere 
between  you  and  me."  A  pause  of  several 
minutes,  filled  with  building — repairing  the 
ravages  of  a  wild  thrust  of  the  afat  one's" 
fists.  Then  her  mind  went  back  to  what  he 
had  said. 

"I  suppose  he  will  cut  us  off,"  observed 
she.  "I  knew  it  would  come  to  that,  when 
we  married.  I'm  sorry.  You  might  have 
used  the  money  in  your  politics." 

"No,"  said  George,  working  steadily 
away  at  the  castle.  "Money's  of  no  use  in 
our  kind  of  politics,  Ellen.  It's  been  tried 
again  and  again.  It  always  fails.  You  see, 
we're  trying  to  make  everybody  see  that  it's 
to  his  interest  to  wake  up  and  work.  And 
299 


GEORGE    HELM 

the  only  money  we  want  is  what  our  people 
must  learn  to  invest,  themselves." 

Eleanor  was  building  a  tower  now,  and 
delicate  work  it  was.  "Wouldn't  you  have 
let  me  take  it,  George,  if  he  had  given  it  to 
me?" 

"No,"  said  George.  "We  don't  need  it, 
and  we'd  not  let  the  baby  be  spoiled  by  it." 

A  long  and  busy  pause,  then  Eleanor: 
"I've  known  some  nice  people  with  money. 
But  they'd  have  been  nicer,  I  guess,  without 
it.  It's  so  hard  to  have  friends  or  to  be 
friends  if  one  has  money — lots  of  money. 
George  Helm,  do  untwist  your  legs.  You'll 
get  awful  cramps." 

"They're  used  to  it,"  replied  the  governor 
and  statesman.  "Now,  listen!  now,  fat  one!" 

And  with  a  wild  shout  of  glee  the  "fat 

one"  fell  upon  the  finished  castle,  fist  and 

foot,  and  demolished  it,  and  rolled  in  the 

ruins  with  his  father  and  mother  mauling 

300 


THE   TEST 

him  and  each  other.  The  waitress,  coming 
to  announce  lunch,  caught  them.  But  she 
was  used  to  it.  She  laughed  at  them  and 
they  laughed  back  at  her.  On  the  way 
down,  George  said: 

"I've  figured  it  all  out.  I  could  force 
them  to  give  me  a  second  term.  But  I  want 
to  get  my  independent  movement  under 
way.  So  I'll  let  Sayler  and  Hazelrigg  do  as 
they  like,  and  I'll  run  independent — and 
take  a  defeat." 

"I'll  be  glad  to  get  away  from  this 
house,"  said  Eleanor.  "I  sometimes  think 
it's  damp  and  bad  for  the  baby." 

"Oh,  we'll  be  back  here  in  a  few  years,  all 
right,"  said  George.  "I've  got  a  lot  of  work 
to  do  in  this  job  of  governor." 

"Well — by  that  time  the  baby  won't  any 
longer  be  a  baby- 
She  stopped  short  on  the  stairway.    "Oh, 
George!"  she  cried.     "Isn't  that  a  frightful 
301 


GEORGE    HELM 

thought!    If  we  could  only  keep  him  as  he 
is — and  ourselves  as  we  are — always!" 

George  did  not  like  the  thought  either. 
But  he  said  cheeringly,  "I  guess  we'll  find 
as  many  things  to  like  in  to-morrow  as  we've 
found  in  to-day.  Anyhow,  let's  hope  so." 

She  gave  his  arm  a  squeeze.  "Hope  so? 
We  know  so!  As  many  things?  More 
things,  George — every  day  more  and  more 
things — to  like — to  love — to  live  for." 

George  was  suddenly  so  happy  that  he 
carried  her  and  the  baby  the  rest  of  the  way 
down  stairs — she  in  one  arm,  the  baby  in 
the  other,  with  equal  ease.  What  a  good  old 
world  it  was,  after  all — if  one  only  took  it 
right!  The  one  thing  it  lacked  was  "the 
people."  If  there  were  a  real  "people"- 
intelligent,  persistent,  not  easily  fooled,  no 
longer  conquerable  and  easy  to  rob  and  op 
press  through  their  ignorance  and  their 
prejudices — if  there  were  "the  people,"  re- 
302 


THE   TEST 

fusing  to  be  ruled  except  by  and  for  them 
selves,  what  a  heaven  of  a  world  it  would 
become !  Well — the  thing  to  do  was  to  fall 
to  and  do  his  share  toward  making  this 
"people." 

They  were  at  lunch — a  little  table,  he,  his 
wife,  the  baby  in  a  high-chair.  George  and 
Eleanor  looked  at  each  other,  and  their  eyes 
filled;  for  the  same  thought  came  to  both. 
The  "fat  one"  halted  his  spoon  on  its  way 
to  his  mouth  and  looked  inquiringly  from 
one  to  the  other.  Said  she  unsteadily, 
laughing  to  keep  from  crying: 

"Don't,  George — don't  look  at  me  like 
that.  We'll  make  the  baby  cry." 


THE   END 


303 


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